THE 
WILES 


SEXTON 
MAGINNIS 


MAUR1CE-FRANCIS-EGAN 


» 11 


-\ 

'? 


THE  WILES  OF 
SEXTON  MAGINNIS 


"It  's  not  me  that  would  be  after  meddliu' 


THE  WILES  OF 
SEXTON  MAGINNIS 


BY 


MAURICE  FRANCIS  EGAN 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 
ARTHUR  I.  KELLER 


NEW  YORK 

THE  CENTURY  CO 

1910 


Copyright,  1902,  1903,  1904,  1905,  1906, 
1909,  by  THE  CENTURY  Co. 


Published,  March,  1909 


"    ;,  ,:•: 


TO 

THEODORE  ROOSEVELT 

A  MAN  OF  LETTERS 
IN  LOVE  WITH  LIFE 


789418 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER 

i  THE  SOUL  OF  MAGINNIS 3 

ii  THE  VALET  OF  THE  PASTOR 26 

HI  THE  WARNING 65 

iv  THE  REIGN  OF  SENTIMENT  113 

v  THE  SECLUSION  OF  ROSALIA 161 

vi  THE  HONOR  OF  MAGINNIS 207 

vii  THE  DESCENT  OF  BLANCHE 243 

viii  THE  TEST  OF  SEXTON  MAGINNIS  .  .  .284 

ix  THE  UNPAYING  GUEST 317 

x  THE  CONVERSION  OF  SEXTON  MAGINNIS    .  351 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 


"It  'snot  me  that  would  be  after  meddlm' »     .     .   Frontispiece 

That  brogue  went  to  Sister  Margaret's  heart 9 

' '  Tell  Mrs.  Magee,  with  my  compliments,  to  keep  you  there ' '     61 

"No,  I  will  not  bring  little  Edith  to  common-sense  and- 
Baumgarten" lli 

A  manner  which  symbolized  both  duty  and  pleasure      .     .   135 
"I'm  the  wan  that  can  get  it  for  you" I43 

"I  wondher  myself  whether  we  have  n't  a  lunatic  amongst 

us" 149 

Baumgarten ' 

"  I  'in  just  wonderin'  whether  you  'd  look  so  much  like  a 

smilin'  baby  if  you  had  a  mother-in-law  " 169 

•I  D-l 

Maginnis's  inspiration  .     .          

"Ach,  the  mother-hand!"  repeated  Scherm-Weinhausen  .  195 

Rosalia,  who   did  not  in  the  least  understand,  frowned 
slightly 201 

" Faith,  when  he  's  Mayor  of  Bracton,  you  can  have  him"    219 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 
"Is  itdestroyin'  my  honor  you'd  be?"    ....  .227 

And  she  began  to  cry  until  all  the  childer  bawled  out  loud 
for  company 231 

"Ah-a,"  murmured  Maginnis,  "he  said  that!"     .  .235 

"  There  's  no  use  of  my  waiting  to  see  Mother  Juliet  now"  253 

An  aspiration <  265 

"  So  Herself  's  in  it !"  said  Maginnis .  271 

Maginnis  jumped  from  his  seat  and  caught  her  arm  .     .     .279 
Even  now  he  could  sing  "  The  Kerry  Dance"  .     .  .331 


THE  WILES  OF  SEXTON  MAGINNIS 


THE    WILES    OF    SEXTON 
MAGINNIS 


THE   SOUL   OF   MAGINNIS 

SISTER  MARGARET'S  rosy  face 
looked  more  rosy  as  the  fresh,  frosty  air 
struck  her  cheeks.  The  convent  habit 
— supposed  by  the  romancers  to  represent  a 
pensive  soul  dead  to  all  human  interests — 
had  no  manner  of  special  detachment  in  her 
case;  it  fitted  very  well  with  the  air  of  bustle 
that  pervaded  the  city  landscape.  Every  ne 
gro  for  miles  around  was  shoveling  snow  from 
the  pavements,  and  Sister  Margaret,  who  was 
of  an  energetic  turn,  clasped  her  hands  in  de 
spair  within  her  spotless  sleeves  as  she  viewed 

3 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

the  movements  of  two  black  "boys"  of  forty 
and  sixty  on  the  pavement  of  the  convent. 
Pompey  and  Caesar  turned  their  spades  with 
the  graceful  languor  of  those  who  wave  fans 
in;  the  ".heat  of  summer. 

*<--:"It's  rrie — it's  I,"  she  said,  correcting  her 
self  /for,  although  Sister  Margaret  was  not  a 
teaching  sister,  she  was  a  grammatical  purist 
— "it 's  I  that  would  like  to  tuck  up  my  habit 
and  get  down  amongst  them.  Sure,  one 
Kerry  man  would  do  more  in  half  an  hour  with 
his  hands  than  all  of  them  with  their  wooden 
spades." 

There  had  been  a  ring  at  the  convent  door 
bell,  and  Sister  Margaret  had,  in  the  tempo 
rary  absence  of  the  portress,  opened  it;  but  no 
one  was  in  sight. 

Sister  Margaret,  from  her  position  on  the 
high  steps,  looked  about  sharply.  A  young 
girl  with  dancing  blue  eyes,  a  sprightly  step, 
and  high  bows  in  her  hat  as  blue  as  her  eyes, 

4 


THE  SOUL  OF  MAGINNIS 

went  by,  smiling  and  nodding  at  the  good  sis 
ter. 

"Mary  Ann  Magee,"  she  said  to  herself; 
"and  it 's  Mary  Ann  Magee  here  and  Mary 
Ann  Magee  there,  with  her  blue  bows  and  her 
gay  ways,  and  the  foolish  young  men  paying 
her  attention,  and  her  mother  working  away 
at  the  wash-tub.  'T  is  the  way  with  Irish 
mothers — they  're  foolish  and  tender  with  their 
children.  Mrs.  Magee  is  a  Tipperary  woman, 
and  Tipperary  is  n't  Kerry.  And  what  did 
you  want?" 

Sister  Margaret  was  accustomed  to  tramps. 
The  convent  was  by  no  means  rich,  and  the 
prioress,  Mother  Juliet,  had  some  economic  no 
tions  about  the  treatment  of  the  poor  who 
could  work;  but  nevertheless,  and  in  spite  of 
Sister  Margaret's  cool  and  deliberate  gaze, 
which  pierced  through  the  excuses  of  men,  the 
weary  if  not  always  worthy  wanderer  found 
the  convent  alms  plain  but  bounteous. 

5 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

The  man  who  had  suddenly  bobbed  up  from 
under  the  iron  steps  had  a  gray  kitten  in  his 
hand.  His  reddish,  uncut  hair  had  made  its 
way  under  the  battered  crown  of  his  hat.  His 
upper  garment,  buttoned  close  to  the  chin,  was 
a  coat  of  the  kind  once  called  "Prince  Albert," 
glossy,  worn;  and  it  had  evidently  been  made 
for  a  much  shorter  person,  and  this  man  was 
very  tall.  His  shoes  were  tied  with  rope,  and 
his  pink,  frost-bitten  wrists  shone  below  the 
frayed  sleeves  of  the  glossy  coat. 

"Another  drinking  man,  I  suppose,"  thought 
Sister  Margaret,  discontentedly. 

One  look  at  the  clear  complexion,  marred 
by  several  weeks'  growth  of  sandy-colored 
hair,  undeceived  her.  She  knew  her  world 
well,  and  tramps  were  as  much  of  her  world 
as  the  innocent  little  boys  who  beseeched  her 
for  molasses  and  bread  between  school  hours. 
There  was  an  honest  look  in  the  helpless 
brown  eyes  of  the  man  that  to  her  experienced 

6 


THE  SOUL  OF  MAGINNIS 

gaze  showed  that  he  was  not  of  the  vicious 
class. 

"It 's  some  woman  to  manage  him — poor 
creature ! — he  needs.  It 's  the  way  with  half 
the  men — their  mothers  don't  live  long  enough, 
and  the  wives  most  of  them  get  are  without 
gumption  at  all.  Well,  what  is  it,  my  good 
man?"  she  asked  in  her  professional  tone. 

"I  am  sorry  to  keep  you  waiting  sisther," 
said  the  man,  with  a  rich  brogue,  "but  I  just 
jumped  down  to  pick  up  this  poor  omadhaun 
of  a  little  cat,  that's  got  itself  almost  frozen." 

The  sister  examined  the  stiff  ball  of  gray 
fur. 

"I  '11  take  it.  Sure,  if  Sister  Rosalie  can't 
bring  it  to  life  by  the  kitchen  fire  it  must  be 
dead  entirely." 

"Is  there  any  work  for  me,  sisther?" 

That  brogue — the  brogue  of  her  place  in 
Kerry — went  to  Sister  Margaret's  heart. 
She  knew  that  Mother  Juliet's  economic  theo- 

7 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

ries  would  not  be  softened  by  the  fact  that  a 
tramp  had  a  Kerry  brogue,  for  the  poor  prior 
ess,  with  all  her  learning,  scarcely  knew  the 
brogue  when  she  heard  it!  She  was  well 
aware,  too,  that  the  helplessness  of  any  man 
would  never  appeal  sufficiently  to  Mother 
Juliet  to  cause  her  to  make  work  for  him  when 
the  resources  of  the  convent  were  taxed  to  pay 
the  retainers  absolutely  needed  for  the  care  of 
the  heating  apparatus  and  other  details  which 
Sister  Margaret's  capable  hands  could  not 
touch.  Something  to  eat,  and  perhaps  a  note 
of  appeal  for  him  to  some  kind  priest,  were  all 
Sister  Margaret  saw,  in  her  mind's  eye,  for  the 
pathetic  Kerry  man. 

Still,  Mother  Juliet  had  one  weakness,  and 
this  was  for  souls.  She  would  go  far  for  a 
strayed  sheep;  and  if  this  man's  soul  were  in 
danger,  he  might  be  taken  on  to  sift  the  ashes 
and  to  help  with  the  boiler  until  his  spiritual 
health  should  be  restored.  With  fear  and 

8 


That  brogue  went  to  Sister  Margaret's  heart 


THE  SOUL  OF  MAGINNIS 

trembling  and  the  sound  of  the  old  homely 
inflection  in  her  ears,  Sister  Margaret  asked 
the  question : 

"Do  you  go  regularly  to  mass,  my  good 
man?" 

The  man  hung  his  head,  and  even  the  wisp 
of  hair  that  straggled  beneath  his  hat  seemed 
to  grow  redder.  Sister  Margaret's  face  was 
illuminated  with  a  beautiful  and  hopeful 
smile. 

"Tell  the  truth,  now,  as  you  're  an  honest 
man/'  she  said. 

"To  tell  the  truth  as  an  honest  man,"  re 
plied  the  applicant,  with  lead  on  his  voice, 
"I  Ve  been  neglectful.  I  Ve  been  to  mass  off 
and  on  the  year,  but  not  reg'lar." 

"And  have  you  gone  to  your  duties?"  con 
tinued  Sister  Margaret,  knowing  well  that  her 
hopes  for  her  compatriot  depended  largely  on 
his  having  not  done  nearly  everything  he  ought 
to  have  done.  The  man  blushed  and  hesitated. 

II 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

Sister  Margaret  tried  to  assume  a  professional 
manner  as  portress. 

"I  've  not  been  reg'lar,"  he  said.  "If  I  were 
near  the  holy  sisthers,  and  workin'  for  them, 
maybe  God  would  give  me  the  grace — " 

"Have  you  been  away  from  your  duties  for 
more  than  a  year?"  asked  Sister  Margaret, 
with  apprehension. 

"Oh,  it  's  me  that 's  ashamed  to  confess  it !" 
said  the  man.  "It  's  me  that  's  ashamed  sis- 
ther,  to  say  three  years  and  more,  come  Eas- 
ther." 

"Thanks  be  to  God !"  said  Sister  Margaret, 
involuntarily.  "You  're  in  mortal  sin,  man ! 
Go  back  to  the  kitchen  gate,  and  I  '11  tell  Moth 
er  Juliet." 

Mother  Juliet  had  just  come  into  the  old- 
fashioned  parlor  through  the  great  mahogany 
doors  of  Henry  Clay's  time  when  Sister  Mar 
garet  entered.  She  held  Street's  "Economics 
for  Young  Minds,"  and  the  chapter  on 

12 


THE  SOUL  OF  MAGINNIS 

"Money"  was  marked  by  a  lace-edged  picture 
of  St.  Stephen  with  a  large  arrow  in  his  side. 
Her  most  important  class  was  over,  and  as  she 
had  put  her  whole  heart  in  it,  she  was  tired  and 
absent-minded.  Sister  Margaret  loved  and 
revered  her ;  but,  as  she  was  a  convert  and  not 
from  Kerry,  Sister  Margaret  often  felt  that 
she  needed  unusual  management. 

"Well,  my  dear  sister?"  asked  the  prioress, 
looking,  in  her  white  robe,  like  a  very  tired 
and  well-bred  statue. 

"It 's  a  soul,  reverend  mother,  that 's  waiting 
nourishment  and  work  at  the  back  gate,"  said 
Sister  Margaret — "a  soul — " 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  the  prioress.  "Well,  sis 
ter,  you  know  what  to  do.  There  are  tickets 
for  the  Charitable  Association  on  the  mantel 
piece  in  the  kitchen.  Although,  of  course,  I 
agree  with  the  traditions  of  the  Church  as  to 
alms-giving,  yet  I  cannot  help  thinking  that 
the  sanest  way  in  which  to  treat  our  fellow- 

13 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

creatures  must  be  based  on  scientific  principles. 
In  the  Holy  Father's  encyclical  on  Labor — " 

"Ah,  since  I  heard  Father  Dudley's  sermon 
on  'The  Husks  of  Science/  it  Js  little  I  care  for 
it,  reverend  mother.  There  's  a  poor  soul  at 
the  gate,  mother,  that  has  n't  been  to  his  duty 
for  three  years,  and  the  number  of  times  he 
has  missed  mass  I  can't — " 

"Dear,  dear!  You  don't  tell  me  so,  Sister 
Margaret !" 

"And  it's  little  good  the  tickets  of  the 
Charitable  Association  will  do  a  poor  man  in  a 
state  of  sin." 

"Give  him  a  good  cup  of  coffee,  and  send 
him  with  a  note  to  Father  Dudley.  He  will 
touch  the  poor  man's  heart  and  lead  him  to 
confession.  Sister  Margaret,  I  notice  that  the 
window-panes  in  the  laundry  are  not  so 
clear—" 

"It 's  little  you  know  of  the  heart  of  man, 
reverend  mother,"  said  Sister  Margaret; 

14 


THE  SOUL  OF  MAGINNIS 

''little  you  know !  It 's  not  the  higher  educa 
tion  that  will  help  you  there.  If  you  were 
brought  up  with  the  farming-folk  in  the  old 
country,  things  would  be  different.  The  heart 
of  man — " 

A  smile  hovered  about  the  edges  of  the 
prioress's  lips.  She  understood  the  heart  of 
woman  well  enough  to  see  dimly  into  Sister 
Margaret's  plan. 

"Well,"  she  said,  with  the  impatience  of 
these  details  caused  by  absorption  in  her 
thoughts  of  her  own  teaching — "well,  do  what 
you  can;  but  remember,  we  are  poorer  than 
even  our  vow  of  poverty  requires,  Sister  Mar 
garet.  You,  in  your  great  kindness,  forget 
that  our  resources  are  not  what  they  once  were 
since  the  railway,  with  its  locomotives  crossing 
the  street,  has  injured  the  school.  Give  him 
something  for  doing  the  laundry  windows." 

"I  can't  forget,  reverend  mother,"  said  Sis 
ter  Margaret,  "that  there  's  a  soul  to  be  saved." 

15 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"Set  him  to  work  then,"  answered  the  prior 
ess,  growing  graver  at  once,  "and  I  will  go," 
she  added  rather  timidly,  "and  read  something 
spiritual  to  him.  There  are  some  beautiful 
passages  in  St.  Francis  de  Sales,  and  he  may 
be  an  intelligent  man." 

"Little  she  knows,  God  help  her!"  thought 
Sister  Margaret.  "Sure,  a  good  talk  of  old 
Kerry  days  will  be  better  for  the  boy  than  all 
the  spiritual  reading  in  the  world." 

The  prioress  was  relieved  by  the  look  of 
hesitancy  on  Sister  Margaret's  face. 

"You  know  better,  sister,  how  to  deal  with 
the  case;  but  get  the  poor  man  off  to  Father 
Dudley  at  once,  just  as  soon  as  you  see  him 
softening  a  little." 

"It 's  strange,"  thought  the  prioress,  with  a 
gentle  perception  of  the  situation,  "that  all  Sis 
ter  Margaret's  distressed  souls  are  Irish." 

In  a  few  minutes  Lewis  Maginnis  was  at 
work,  on  a  ladder  in  the  laundry,  battling  with 

16 


THE  SOUL  OF  MAGINNIS 

that  small  amount  of  matter  that  seldom 
gets  out  of  place  in  a  convent.  His  story  was 
plain.  He  had  drifted  from  a  Kerry  farm. 
It  was  evident  that  he  was  simple,  good-na 
tured,  rather  soft  in  temperament,  and  at  the 
beck  of  circumstances.  He  had  worked  when 
he  could  find  work  for  his  unskilled  hands; 
when  the  winter  came  on  he  had  drifted  again 
— southward  this  time. 

In  the  course  of  a  long  and  busy  life  Sister 
Margaret  had  never  enjoyed  herself  so  much 
as  on  the  afternoon  of  her  meeting  with  Lewis 
Maginnis.  Here  was  material  made  for  her 
molding  hand,  clay  ready  for  the  potter;  here 
was  an  opportunity  of  furthering  the  progress, 
spiritual  and  material,  of  a  soul  from  her  part 
of  Ireland,  and  of  having  her  own  way  in  a 
good  cause. 

Sister  Rosalie,  who  ruled  the  kitchen,  was 
urged  to  unusual  efforts  in  the  way  of  coffee 
and  waffles  by  a  graphic  description  of  Lewis 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

Maginnis's  aptitude  for  fetching  and  carry 
ing,  for  this  serving  sister  had  reason  to  re 
gard  the  colored  masculine  aids  as  trifling. 

Maginnis  himself  was  delightfully  docile 
and  sufficiently  respectful.  In  the  twenty-five 
years  of  his  life  he  had  never  done  anything 
but  what  circumstances  compelled  him  to  do. 
It  was  cordial  indeed  to  find  circumstances  im 
personated  by  such  a  kindly  and  motherly 
force  as  Sister  Margaret. 

When  he  had  finished  the  laundry  windows, 
refreshed  himself  with  unlimited  waffles  and 
coffee,  and  sifted  the  ashes,  Sister  Margaret 
sent  him  over  to  the  Widow  Magee's  to  enter 
there  as  a  lodger  until  her  inventive  mind 
could  discover  some  new  means  of  employment 
for  him. 

"He  has  the  making  of  a  decent  man  in 
him/'  Sister  Margaret  thought,  as  she 
watched  him  cross  the  wide  street.  "Heaven 
knows  how  he  's  to  pay  for  his  lodging  at  the 

18 


THE  SOUL  OF  MAGINNIS 

end  of  the  week;  but  God  is  good.  It  would  n't 
be  safe  to  send  him  over  there  with  Mary  Ann 
about,  if  I  knew  she  wouldn't  try  to  make  a 
fool  of  him, — at  least,  till  he  has  a  new  suit 
of  clothes, — the  creature!" 

Still,  Sister  Margaret  had  her  doubts.  She 
respected  the  Widow  Magee's  virtues,  and  she 
helped  her  in  many  ways,  but  she  felt  that, 
once  out  of  her  sight,  the  widow  was  the  abject 
slave  of  her  frivolous  daughter  with  the  ag 
gressive  blue  bows. 

Lewis  Maginnis  was  provided  with  a  warm 
room  for  the  present,  and  Sister  Margaret,  at 
the  sound  of  one  of  the  many  bells  which  are 
as  the  voice  of  God,  dismissed  him  from  her 
mind.  He  appeared  on  the  next  morning 
early,  very  much  improved  by  a  bath  and  a 
razor,  and  with  a  hat,  a  little  too  large,  which 
had  once  belonged  to  the  late  lamented  Magee. 

Mother  Juliet,  absorbed  as  she  was,  could 
not  help  observing  that  Maginnis  seemed  to 

19 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

be  gradually  replacing  all  the  other  intermit 
tent  "help."  The  colored  "boys"  disappeared, 
Pompey — whose  soul  had  been  saved  several 
times,  and  who  had  spiritual  relapses  whenever 
he  wanted  unusual  attention — going  last. 

"Maginnis   seems   to   be  a   hard   worker," 
Mother  Juliet  said  one  day  as  she  examined 
the  crystal-clear  laundry  windows. 

"He  is  that,  reverend  mother,"  answered 
Sister  Margaret,  with  a  just  pride;  "and 
Father  Dudley  has  him  to  serve  his  mass 
nearly  every  day,  and  sometimes  he  blows  the 
organ  when  there  's  a  funeral  in  the  chapel." 

"I  trust  he  will  not  neglect  our  work,"  said 
the  prioress,  in  alarm. 

"You  can  depend  on  that,  reverend 
mother,"  answered  Sister  Margaret.  "Such 
a  conscientious  worker  with  the  ashes  I  never 


saw." 


Mother  Juliet  looked  pleased.     To  have  a 
20 


THE  SOUL  OF  MAGINNIS 

man  at  peace  with  his  Creator  and  capable  of 
looking  after  the  boiler  and  the  ashes  was  an 
unusual  thing. 

Sister  Margaret's  plans  for  the  advancement 
of  Lewis  Maginnis  were  more  and  more  suc 
cessful;  and  Mrs.  Magee,  who  now  received 
a  modest  stipend  from  her  lodger,  seconded 
them  warmly.  Maginnis  of  April  30  was  no 
longer  Maginnis  of  February  3.  A  trans 
formation  had  taken  place.  He  was  erect,  re 
spectably  clad,  alert,  well  shaven  on  Wednes 
days  and  Sundays,  and  still  the  very  symbol 
of  docility.  If  Sister  Margaret  had  been  de 
void  of  artistic  feeling,  she  would  have  let  the 
result  of  her  work  alone;  but  a  retainer  of  the 
church  retired  from  active  service,  and  Sister 
Margaret  at  once  suggested  her  protege  to 
Father  Dudley. 

One  of  the  colored  "boys" — Pompey — was 
recalled  to  make  up  the  lapses  in  convent  at- 

21 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

tendance.  Mother  Juliet  was  alarmed;  there 
was  a  noticeable  difference  in  the  laundry  win 
dows. 

"It 's  for  the  good  of  his  soul  that  he  should 
be  as  near  Father  Dudley  as  possible,  reverend 
mother,"  spoke  Sister  Margaret. 

Mother  Juliet  had  nothing  to  say  to  this, 
but  she  could  not  help  hoping  that  Sister  Mar 
garet's  next  treasure  would  have  a  less  sensi 
tive  soul. 

Maginnis  rose  more  and  more  in  favor  with 
the  fathers  at  the  church.  This  Sister  Mar 
garet  noticed  with  pleasure.  The  artist  was 
strong  within  her,  and  already  she  had  for 
gotten  the  interests  of  the  convent  in  the  vision 
of  Lewis  Maginnis  as  sexton  of  the  big  church. 

"A  Kerry  boy,  too/'  she  said  to  herself; 
"and  he  '11  soon  be  with  a  buttonhole  bouquet 
in  his  coat,  showing  the  sisters  to  their  pew 
of  a  Sunday." 

Pompey  was  at  work  for  good — or  for  bad 

22 


THE  SOUL  OF  MAGINNIS 

— and  Caesar  had  returned;  Maginnis  came 
only  with  messages  from  the  church,  or  to  give 
counsel  when  something  went  wrong  with  the 
boiler.  Mother  Juliet  missed  him,  but  she  was 
silent;  she  had  become  rather  tired  of  his  soul. 

On  Easter  Sunday  Sister  Margaret's  dream 
was  realized.  Beaming  with  pride,  his  red 
hair  shining  above  his  black  coat,  which  held  a 
large  red  rosebud,  stood  Lewis  Maginnis  be 
side  the  church  door,  waiting  for  the  sisters 
to  arrive.  They  came,  and,  as  Maginnis  led 
the  way  to  their  pew,  Sister  Margaret  felt  all 
the  justifiable  pride  of  a  sculptor  whose  statue 
has  been  bought  by  a  really  appreciative 
patron. 

In  the  afternoon  Maginnis  came  to  the  con 
vent — by  the  front  door,  as  he  had  at  first 
come.  He  asked  for  Sister  Margaret,  and 
laid  his  glossy  silk  hat  on  the  big  volume  of 
Butler's  "Lives  of  the  Saints"  that  graced  the 
table. 

3  23 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"Well,  Lewis  Maginnis,"  said  Sister  Mar 
garet,  entering  with  Sister  Rosalie.  "  'T  is  a 
happy  man  you  ought  to  be." 

"And  I  am,  sisther — thanks  be  to  God  and 
you." 

"It  is  I  had  little  to  do  with  it,  Maginnis," 
said  Sister  Margaret,  with  much  humility. 

Maginnis  blushed. 

"If  it  was  n't  for  you,  sisther,  I  'd  never  have 
met  her." 

There  was  a  pause.  A  light  flashed  upon 
Sister  Margaret. 

"And  so  you  're  going  to  settle  down — and 
it 's  well,"  said  Sister  Margaret,  nodding  as 
one  who  knows  the  heart  of  man.  "There  is 
no  better  woman  living  than  Mrs.  Magee. 
And  I  hope  you  '11  both  keep  that  Mary  Ann 
in  order." 

"It  was  Mrs.  Magee  I  thought  of  first/'  said 
Maginnis,  with  simplicity,  "but  Herself  thought 
I  'd  better  take  Mary  Ann,  as  it  would  steady 

24 


THE  SOUL  OF  MAGINNIS 

her;  and  Magee  in  his  grave  only  ten  months 
would  set  the  neighbors  talking." 

Sister  Margaret  did  not  speak.  A  vision 
of  the  high  blue  bows  obscured  the  ruddy  smile 
of  Lewis  Maginnis.  When  she  spoke  it  was 
as  if  to  a  far-distant  man. 

She  had  assisted  him  successfully  in  his  evo 
lution.  Spiritually,  he  was  in  a  state  of  grace ; 
physically,  he  was  as  the  dragon-fly  to  the  tad 
pole;  artistically,  he  was  what  she  had  con 
ceived  he  ought  to  be.  He  looked,  as  he  stood 
in  the  parlor,  with  a  rosebud  in  his  lapel,  the 
ideal  sexton.  And  yet — 


II 

THE   VALET   OF   THE    PASTOR 

MAGINNIS,  coming  in  from  Bracton 
with  a  great  basket  of  washed  linen 
for  the  priests  at  the  cathedral,  rode 
in  the  same  trolley-car  as  the  bishop.     His  red 
head    blazed    above    a    paper-covered    novel. 
The   bishop    read   the    title.     It   was    "Lady 
Violet;  or,  The  Wonder  of  Kingswood  Chase/' 
"Good  day,  Maginnis,"  said  the  bishop,  af 
fably.     "How  are  things  in  Bracton?" 

Maginnis  raised  his  head,  and  his  face 
blazed  under  his  three  days'  growth  of  sandy 
hair.  He  tried  to  hide  "Lady  Violet"  beneath 
the  linen  in  the  basket. 

"I  beg  your  lordship's  pardon — was  it  to  me 
you  were  speakin'?  Sure,  things  at  Bracton 
are  bad  enough  entirely.  What  with  the 

26 


THE  VALET  OF  THE  PASTOR 

Dagos  and  the  Tips,  the  Kerry  people  have  no 
lives  at  all,"  said  Maginnis,  plaintively. 
"They  led  the  old  priest  a  hard  life." 
"He  was  a  Connaught  man,  sure,  and — " 
"I  get  off  here,  Maginnis,"  interrupted  the 
bishop.     "Good  afternoon,  Maginnis." 

THE  bishop's  secretary,  Father  Dudley,  a 
tall,  alert,  black-eyed  priest,  raised  his  anxious 
face  from  a  pile  of  papers  on  the  desk  as  the 
bishop  entered  the  big  front  room  in  the  second 
story  of  the  rectory.  The  bishop  took  off  his 
frock-coat  and  with  evident  relief  incased  him 
self  in  a  somewhat  worn  purple-bordered  cas 
sock. 

"I  Ve  been  paying  a  dinner-call  that  I 
could  n't  escape,"  he  said,  "and  I  tried  my  best 
to  look  the  part  of  a  cultivated  prelate  in  good 
society.  Do  you  know,  I  rather  think  that  our 
separated  brethren  are  pleased  to  see  a  glimpse 
of  the  purple  at  an  afternoon  tea?  The  wife 

27 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

of  the  Baptist  minister  called  me  'your  lord 
ship'  twice;  and  a  remarkably  clever  young 
woman  asked  me  whether  I  liked  novels  with  a 
'heart  interest'  or  not.  Stephen  Blodgett  was 
there,  too — like  myself,  a  slave  of  duty;  he 
looked  like  a  young  catechumen  whose  prin 
ciples  had  forced  him  to  attend  one  of  Nero's 
saturnalias.  It 's  all  very  nice,  but  the  next 
time  I  agree  to  dine  out,  I  '11  see  that  there  is  no 
afternoon-tea  attachment." 

"It 's  not  for  me  to  be  making  suggestions," 
said  the  secretary,  who  had  spent  his  time  in 
making  suggestions  ever  since  he  had  been  in 
the  seminary  with  the  bishop,  "but  I  think  so 
ciety  is  no  place  for  a  priest,  let  alone  a  bishop." 

"Just  hand  me  that  breviary — I  'm  a  little 
behindhand  with  my  office,"  answered  the 
bishop,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye.  "I  think 
Bracton  might  suit  Blodgett." 

The  secretary's  face  assumed  a  look  as  of  a 
god  who  battles  in  vain  against  fate. 

28 


THE  VALET  OF  THE  PASTOR 

"Steve  Blodgett's  a  convert,  a  clerical  dude, 
though  I  don't  deny  that  he  's  good;  but  he  's 
not  one  of  our  own  people.  The  Irish  factions 
and  the  Italians  at  St.  Kevin's  will  make  short 
work  of  him.  The  Moldonovos  and  the 
O'Keefes  and  the  rest  will  eat  him  up." 

The  bishop  laughed.  "I  believe  that  you  've 
only  one  fault  to  find  with  the  church :  it  is  not 
all  Irish — and  Kerry  Irish  at  that." 

The  secretary  sighed.  The  bishop's  persi 
flage  always  pained  him.  "To  be  sure,"  the 
bishop  added,  "he  has  no  sense  of  humor;  but 
that  makes  him  all  the  more  effective." 

"He  's  the  kind  of  man  that  would  stop  to 
have  his  pants  pressed  before  he  'd  make  a 
sick-call!" 

"Pants !"  breathed  the  bishop,  scornfully. 

Father  Dudley,  exasperated  beyond  endur 
ance,  raised  his  hands  in  appeal  to  the  ceiling 
behind  the  bishop's  back. 

"It 's  well  enough  for  an  Episcopal  minister 
29 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

to  part  his  hair  in  the  middle,"  Father  Dudley 
broke  in,  after  a  pause.  "And  what  '11  he  do 
among  plain  people,  when  he 's  so  easily 
shocked  ?  He 's  only  fit  for  St.  Pancratius, 
where  everybody  wears  kid  gloves  and  you 
have  to  strain  your  eyes  before  you  '11  find  one 
of  the  poor.  I  dropped  into  his  room  the  other 
day,  and  I  found  him  looking  at  Tissot's  pic 
tures  with  a  view  to  his  Good  Friday  sermon ! 
As  if  a  rousing  sermon  ever  came  out  of  pic 
tures!  And  he  recommended  one  of  Canon 
Liddon's  books.  As  if  there  was  n't  enough 
good  theology  in  honest  Latin !  So,  to  get  the 
cobwebs  out  of  his  mind,  I  told  him  a  story. 
'T  was  that  finished  him.  He  Js  no  more  fit  to 
be  over  practical  people  than  a  child." 

"I  trust,"  said  the  bishop,  gravely  opening 
his  breviary,  "that  the  story  was  a  proper  one." 

"Proper?"  Father  Dudley  was  almost 
speechless.  "It  was  about  my  own  cousin, 
Brian  Cahill,  who  was  frightfully  jealous  of 

30 


THE  VALET  OF  THE  PASTOR 

the  good  fortune  of  his  sister-in-law,  Mary 
Lawlor.  And  when  she  got  rich — through  her 
praying  to  St.  Joseph,  she  always  said — Brian 
was  as  mad  as  if  he  himself  had  lost  all  he  had 
in  the  world.  She  had  bought  a  fine  house, 
and  she  was  showing  Brian  through  it.  WrTen 
they  came  to  the  grand  staircase  that  led  up 
from  the  hall,  she  pointed  out  a  fine  stained- 
glass  window.  There  was  a  heathen  god 
there/  she  said,  'but  I  had  him  taken  out  and 
St.  Joseph  put  there,  for  't  was  St.  Joseph  gave 
me  the  house/  Now  Brian  was  boiling  over 
with  jealousy/'  said  Father  Dudley,  warming 
with  the  story,  "and  he  had  his  chance.  'Faith, 
Mary  Lawlor,  he  said,  "t  was  more  than  he 
ever  did  for  his  own  family/  And,  when  I 
expected  him  to  laugh,  Steve  Blodgett's  eyes 
bulged  out  as  if  I  'd  committed  mortal  sin." 

"A  sense  of  humor  sometimes  causes  us  to 
be  irreverent/'  said  the  bishop,  demurely. 

Again  Father  Dudley  made  a  gesture  of  de- 

31 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

spair  at  the  ceiling.  The  frivolity  of  his  su 
perior  was  more  than  he  could  bear. 

"Bracton  will  suit  him,"  the  bishop  contin 
ued,  when  he  had  carefully  marked  a  place  in 
the  breviary.  "The  factory  hands  will  keep 
his' sense  of  duty  busy,  and  there  's  the  monas 
tery — that  will  console  him." 

"It  will,"  said  Father  Dudley,  grimly. 
"Like  all  converts,  he  's  half  a  monk.  He  '11  in 
troduce  all  the  new  foreign  devotions  before 
we  know  it.  Not  but  what  there  are  sensible 
people  at  Bracton  that  can  be  a  help  to  him. 
There  is  Maginnis,  who  was  worth  his  weight 
in  gold  to  me  as  sexton  when  I  was  at  St.  Pan- 
cratius.  He  married  Mary  Ann  Magee,  the 
daughter  of  the  widow  that  was  such  a  pet  of 
the  sisters.  Mrs.  Magee  has  a  laundry  there, 
and  is  getting  on  well." 

"Ah,  yes,  I  remember."  The  twinkle  came 
back  into  the  bishop's  eyes.  "And  how  is 

32 


THE  VALET  OF  THE  PASTOR 

Mary  Ann?  Sister  Margaret  always  predict 
ed  a  bad  end  for  her." 

"A  bad  end !"  exclaimed  Father  Dudley,  who 
was  famous  as  a  champion  of  every  member  of 
all  the  flocks  he  had  shepherded  in  his  time. 
"She 's  the  mother  of  four  children  and  a 
model  housewife.  What  do  nuns  know  about 
the  world?  If  Steve  Blodgett  goes  to  Bracton 
— and  the  plain  people  can  stand  him — Mrs. 
Magee  and  Sexton  Maginnis  will  be  as  towers 
of  strength  to  him  among  the  factions.  Ma 
ginnis  is  a  good-natured  soul,  but  it 's  the  moth 
er-in-law  that  has  the  brains  of  the  family. 
You  ought,"  he  broke  off  suddenly,  "to  let  the 
assistants  go  tramping  out  at  night  because  an 
old  woman  has  a  toothache,  instead  of  going 
out  yourself,  as  you  did  last  night.  I  don't 
want  to  suggest,  but  a  bishop  ought  to  know 
his  place." 

"By  all  means  I  '11  put  Father  Blodgett  in 
33 


THE  WILES  OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

the  care  of  your  Kerry  people,"  said  the  bishop, 
evading  the  last  remark.  "He  Js  a  saint  and  a 
gentleman — which  are,  in  my  experience,  often 
two  different  things — and  as  he  finds  his  stay 
in  a  parish  made  up  of  good  society  a  martyr 
dom,  I  '11  give  him  a  contrast." 

As  Maginnis  was  about  to  leave  the  kitchen 
with  his  empty  clothes-basket,  he  was  called  to 
Father  Dudley's  office  for  a  little  friendly  but 
dignified  conversation. 

"I  '11  do  my  best,"  Maginnis  said,  as  he  stood 
reverentially,  hat  in  hand.  "I  hear,  father — 
or  at  least,  herself  says  she  hears — that  Father 
Blodgett  is  as  soft  as  a  lamb.  Herself  says — 
not  that  Mary  Ann  has  n't  sense,  too,  but  the 
childer  take  all  her  time — often  that  she  do  be 
pityin'  them  converts:  it  takes  them  a  long 
time  to  get  on  to  the  ways  of  us." 

"Well,"  said  Father  Dudley,  looking  bored, 
"the  bishop  never  makes  mistakes,  but  you  and 

34 


THE  VALET  OF  THE  PASTOR 

your  worthy  mother-in-law  must  see  that  Fa 
ther  Blodgett  is  not  placed  in  a  false  position 
by  those  factions  at  Bracton.  Mind  that !" 

THE  Rev.  Stephen  Wetherill  Blodgett  was 
pleased  when  he  received  the  bishop's  amiable 
letter  appointing  him  to  Bracton.  His  soul 
panted,  as  the  thirsty  hart  panteth,  for  work 
among  the  lowly.  The  only  son  of  exceedingly 
rich  and  affectionate  parents,  he  had  never 
seen,  except  during  his  limited  training  in  the 
seminary,  what  Father  Dudley  called  the 
"virile"  side  of  life.  At  the  seminary  he  had 
been  much  liked  and  respected  for  his  honesty 
and  simplicity,  though  he  had  been  set  down  as 
a  mystic.  And  there  were  those  who  predicted 
that  his  rising  inflection,  his  fondness  for  all 
the  refinements  of  devotion,  and  his  extremely 
serious  way  of  taking  life  unfitted  him  for  the 
rude  shocks  of  a  priestly  career  in  what  until 
lately  was  called  a  "missionary"  country. 

35 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

Erect,  well  groomed,  with  kind,  steady 
brown  eyes,  and  of  a  height  that  even  over 
topped  Father  Dudley's,  he  was  too  slender 
and  ascetic  in  appearance  to  be,  as  the  rotund 
Father  Dudley  was,  "a  fine  figure  of  a  man," 
yet  he  was  very  attractive.  Even  Father  Dud 
ley  admitted  this,  with  the  comment,  "but  with 
his  new  Italian  saints  and  his  French  fringes 
of  devotion,  you  'd  think  he  was  a  supersti 
tious  ritualist." 

So  far  Father  Blodgett  had  been  a  great  suc 
cess.  The  bishop  made  him  do  all  the  social 
duties  which  the  older  priests  declined.  He 
had  been  in  great  demand  for  fashionable  mar 
riages  when  the  bishop  was  away  on  his  tours 
of  confirmation.  As  the  Countess  de  Madrino, 
nee  Crowe,  the  heroine  of  an  international  mar 
riage,  had  remarked,  he  "composed  so  well  with 
white  orchids,  orange-blossoms,  and  that  sort 
of  thing."  The  bishop,  who  hated  secular 

36 


THE  VALET  OF  THE  PASTOR 

functions,  worked  him  hard ;  but  so  great  was 
his  respect  for  authority  that  he  was  pathetic- 
airy  docile.  Father  Dudley  treated  him  as  a 
fragile  but  amazing  flower,  and  never  lost  his 
temper  with  him  but  once,  and  that  was  when 
he  referred  to  the  eminently  respectable  red 
brick  episcopal  house  as  "his  lordship's  pal 
ace."  Father  Blodgett  looked  on  Father  Dud 
ley  as  one  of  his  earthly  afflictions.  His  red 
bandana,  sprinkled  with  snuff,  was  particularly 
hard  to  bear. 

Bracton  is  not  a  pretty  place.  The  factories 
have  destroyed  its  horizon  and  the  coal-barges 
have  spoiled  its  river.  It  is  one  of  those  "ag 
gregations"  that  have  grown  up  under  new  in 
dustrial  conditions  in  the  South.  It  is  most 
unlike  any  of  the  typical  Southern  towns. 
There  are  no  old  families,  there  is  very  little 
poverty — and  none  of  it  "gentle" — there  is  not 
a  single  bed  in  which  Lafayette  slept,  and  there 

37 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

are  only  two  evening  coats  in  the  place;  they 
belong  to  the  imported  waiters  at  the  Bracton 
hotel. 

At  the  time  when  Father  Blodgett  assumed 
the  cure  of  souls  in  Bracton,  Messrs.  Joseph 
O'Keefe  and  Giuseppe  Moldonovo  were  the 
leading  capitalists,  and  they  described  them 
selves  as  New  Yorkers.  A  monastery  of  Ger 
man  monks  had  been  for  some  years  estab 
lished  near  the  town,  on  land  which  they  had 
made  to  bloom  as  the  proverbial  rose. 

Father  Blodgett,  in  his  humility,  trembled 
for  his  own  unworthiness  when  he  entered  the 
parish  house  of  St.  Kevin's.  There  was  no 
housekeeper  to  welcome  him,  the  lady  in  charge 
having  retired  when  she  heard  that  the  new 
pastor  was  "particular."  Mrs.  Magee,  ca 
pable,  buxom,  and  smiling,  was  on  hand,  with  a 
hot  supper  and  her  son-in-law,  to  assist  in  mak 
ing  the  way  smooth. 

"It 's  me  that 's  neglectin'  my  work,  Magin- 

38 


THE  VALET  OF  THE  PASTOR 

nis,  and  I  know  it,"  said  Mrs.  Magee,  emphat 
ically,  "but  it 's  not  only  in  Christian  charity 
that  the  poor  man  should  have  a  bit  and  a  sup ; 
it 's  of  them  Dagos  I  'm  thinkin'.  If  that  Ma 
ria  Moldonovo  gets  in  here  first,  with  her  spa 
ghettis  and  macaronis  and  her  outlandish  ways, 
there  '11  be  an  Eye-talian  housekeeper  here, 
sure  as  fate.  We  Ve  got  to  crowd  the  crea 
tures  out,  Maginnis.  I  'm  not  one  for  keepin' 
up  factions,  or  for  nationality  in  religion;  but 
I  'd  hate  to  see  that  bold  Isabella  Moldonovo 
singin'  soprany  in  the  choir  and  the  O'Keefe 
girl  bossin'  the  Holy  Angels'  Sodality.  The 
Dagos  ought  to  keep  in  their  place — or  be  kept ; 
not  that  Moldonovo  ain't  rich  enough  to  buy 
us  all  out,"  she  added,  with  a  sigh. 

Father  Blodgett  made  no  comments  on  his 
half-furnished  house ;  his  mind  was  intent  upon 
the  unpacking  of  a  few  treasures,  books  and 
pictures. 

There  was  a  pleasant  patch  of  very  young 

39 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

Bermuda  grass  in  front  of  his  house ;  his  front 
window  looked  out  on  a  stunted  fig-tree  and  a 
crape-myrtle.  All  the  air  seemed  of  a  tender 
green  shot  with  red-gold,  so  fine  were  the  re 
flections  of  the  budding  trees,  and  soft  shrub- 
sprays  after  the  rain.  The  river,  just  begin 
ning  to  be  contaminated  by  the  factories,  shone, 
in  the  late  afternoon,  with  all  the  tints  of  a 
fire-opal. 

Father  Blodgett  hung  his  principal  treasure 
— a  big  Braun  photograph  of  Murillo's  St.  An 
tony  and  the  Divine  Child — on  the  east  wall  of 
his  whitewashed  chamber.  The  great  arm 
chair — a  luxury  he  endured  because  his  mother 
sent  it — was  placed  near  the  west  window ;  his 
prie-dieu  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  enameled  iron 
bedstead ;  and  plumes  of  early  white  lilacs  in  a 
thick  white  china  pitcher,  on  a  small  table, 
waved  and  wafted  perfume  in  the  breeze  from 
the  window. 

"It 's  God's  room,  safe  and  simple,"  thought 
40 


THE  VALET  OF  THE  PASTOR 

the  new  pastor,  as  he  stood  on  the  one  square 
of  rag  carpet  near  the  bed  and  carefully 
watched  the  languid  motions  of  Sexton  Magin- 
nis  as  he  unpacked  the  books.  "This  is  to  be 
my  world;"  and  he  added,  as  the  six-o'clock 
whistle  blew,  and  groups  of  men,  women,  and 
children  of  all  nationalities  began  to  pour  down 
the  narrow  mountain  street,  "these  people  shall 
be  my  people !" 

His  heart  was  full  of  devout  gratitude. 
Here  was  peace;  and  he  was  part  of  the  un 
complicated  lives  of  the  poor.  How  different 
it  all  was  from  the  artificial  atmosphere  of  the 
rich  or  the  half-rich !  Here  there  could  be  no 
social  ambitions,  no  climbing  for  power,  no 
rivalries. 

This  spot  and  these  honest  folk  would  have 
delighted  the  heart  of  St.  Francis.  To  guard 
these  sheep,  to  guide  them,  to  be  part  of  the 
simple  annals  of  the  poor — this  were  happiness 
enough ! 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"And  who  sent  the  flowers?"  he  asked  smil 
ing. 

Maginnis  laid  down  his  hammer.  He  was 
deep  in  the  last  chapter  of  "Lady  Violet/' 
which  was  running  through  his  mind.  A 
blush  made  its  way  under  the  growth  of  hair 
on  his  cheeks.  He  had  put  the  lilacs  there, 
but  he  was  ashamed  to  confess  to  a  bit  of  sen 
timent.  "Herself"  had  rebuked  him  for  bring 
ing  in  "them  weeds."  But  he  had  to  answer. 
"T  was  Lady — 't  was  Miss  Violet  Kings- 
wood,"  he  said,  blushing  until  his  eyes  seemed 
doubly  brown  by  contrast  with  the  pink. 

"Ah,"  said  Father  Blodgett,  "it  was  most 
kind.  Where  does  she  live?" 

"Up  there,"  said  Maginnis,  with  a  vague 
wave  of  his  hand. 

"Most  kind,"  murmured  Father  Blodgett; 
and  indeed  the  sight  of  the  delicate  plumes  was 
as  stimulating  as  a  grate  fire  in  winter.  "Is 
she  one  of  my  flock?" 

42 


THE  VALET  OF  THE  PASTOR 

"She  's  an  old  maid,"  said  Maginnis,  taking 
the  crooked  and  the  wide  path  on  the  impulse 
of  the  moment,  "and  I  'm  sorry  to  say  she  's 
not  wan  of  our  own  people." 

"She  may  see  the  light  yet — perhaps  she  '11 
come  to  church.  How  came  she  to  think  of  a 
stranger  like  me  ?" 

"She  do  be  takin'  a  great  interest  in  every 
thing,"  said  Maginnis,  putting  a  volume  of 
Burton's  "Anatomy"  next  to  the  "Mortal  The 
ology"  of  the  Stonyhurst  series. 

"Here  's  my  'Flying  Mercury' — quite  safe," 
said  Father  Blodgett,  as  the  expressman 
brought  a  long  box  into  the  room.  Mrs.  Ma- 
gee,  full  of  curiosity,  entered  and  helped  to 
open  it. 

"Put  it  over  the  chimney-piece,  Maginnis — 
there  's  a  good  man." 

The  "Mercury"  of  John  of  Bologna,  aerial, 
seemed  ready  to  float  over  the  white  lilacs,  im 
pelled  by  the  motive  of  the  Spring. 

43 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

Mrs.  Magee  turned  her  head  away. 

"A  haythen  god  stone  cut  by  the  Eye-tal- 
ians,"  she  murmured.  "It 's  this  way  the  Da 
gos  do  be  corruptin'  the  innocent  public.  And 
he  's  put  it  where  Father  Dooner  used  to  have 
St.  Patrick."  Maginnis  viewed  these  symp 
toms  with  alarm.  "It  won't  do,  Maginnis,  it 
won't  do,"  she  whispered.  "Of  course  his  rev 
erence  will  not  be  after  listenin'  to  a  simple 
man,  but  you  can  talk  to  one  of  the  brothers 
at  the  monastery.  They  'd  not  countenance 
this,  though  they  are  Dutch." 

It  was  after  nine  o'clock  when  a  kind  of  com 
fort  had  made  itself  evident  in  Father  Blod- 
gett's  house.  Maginnis  asked  if  there  was 
anything  else  to  do,  and  Father  Blodgett  was 
filled  with  compunction.  He  had  walked 
through  the  unfinished  church,  marked  with 
pleasure  the  possibilities  of  the  long  garden  at 
its  back,  and  forgotten  Maginnis. 

"I  'm  sorry,  my  good  man,"  he  said;  "your 
44 


THE  VALET  OF  THE  PASTOR 

people  are  probably  waiting  for  you  at  home." 

"They  don't  miss  me  much,"  said  Maginnis, 
"Mary  Ann  's  content  enough,  with  the  childer 
and  a  novel,  and  Herself  doesn't  leave  me 
much  to  do." 

"How  would  you  like  to  look  after  me? 
When  you  were  sexton  for  Father  Dudley  you 
used  to  be  able  to  do  everything,  I  hear.  Fa 
ther  Dudley  told  me  I  'd  find  you  useful  be 
cause  you  could  press  trousers."  Father  Dud 
ley  had  maliciously  said  "pants,"  but  Father 
Blodgett  could  not  bring  himself  to  that.  "But 
I  'm  sure  you  could  be  useful  in  many  other 
ways.  I  '11  need  you  to  serve  my  mass,  and 
I  'd  rather  have  you  about  the  house  than  a 
woman,  for  some  women  are  such  gossips." 

"Herself  could  send  in  your  breakfast,  and 
I  'm  sure  she  'd  be  glad  to  see  me  doing  the 
rest  for  your  reverence,"  answered  Maginnis. 

"Very  well.  And,"  added  Father  Blodgett, 
with  a  certain  timidity,  "if  you  hear  any  criti- 

45 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

cisms  of  me  that  you  can't  help  hearing — that 
you  can't  help  hearing,  mind ! — I  wish  you  'd 
tell  me.  If  people  should  say  pleasant  things, 
I  don't  want  to  hear  them.  That 's  mere  gos 
sip.  And  don't  be  afraid  to  tell  me  the  truth, 
for  I  'm  not  likely  to  hear  it  any  other  way. 
The  words  of  the  honest  and  the  simple  are 
the  best  for  a  priest  to  hear.  I  am  not  likely 
to  come  in  intimate  contact  with  the  folk  here, 
beyond  my  sacred  duties." 

"'T  was  herself  said  he  was  no  mixer," 
thought  Maginnis,  respectfully  nodding. 

"There  's  that  Miss  Kingswood  you  spoke 
about,"  went  on  the  priest.  "She  may  be  a 
close  observer,  and  one  very  often  discovers 
one's  defects  from  our  separated  brethren. 
And  if,  without  a  breach  of  confidence,  you 
could  tell  me  if  she  should  see  any  mistakes  of 
mine,  it  might  do  good.  Perhaps  there 's 
somebody  else." 

Father  Blodgett  paused  expectantly. 


THE  VALET  OF  THE  PASTOR 

"Sure,  there  's  Brother  Gamborious,  at  the 
monastery/'  said  Maginnis,  discovering  by  in 
spiration  another  mask  for  the  opinion  of  Mrs. 
Magee.  "He  's  what  they  call  a  Passionate 
monk,  I  think." 

"Thank  you."  And  Maginnis,  properly 
tipped,  was  left  free  to  return  to  the  bosom  of 
his  family. 

"!T  ?s  not  the  likes  of  me  that  would  presume 
to  give  his  reverence  advice,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Magee,  "but  I  can  see  that  he  needs  it — and 
I  'm  satisfied  you  '11  soon  find  a  way,  Maginnis, 
of  showin'  him  where  the  Dagos  and  them 
purse-proud  O'Keefes  belong." 

Maginnis  did  not  reply.  He  felt  helpless. 
He  knew  that  he  had  invented  ways  of  convey 
ing  the  opinions  of  "herself"  to  Father  Blod- 
gett.  At  the  same  time  he  threw  the  blame  of 
these  ways  on  circumstances.  Miss  Violet 
Kingswood  and  Brother  Gamborious  had 

47 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

sprung  full-armed  from  his  mouth,  as  it  were. 
When  Mary  Ann  called  him  to  hold  the  young 
est  baby  while  she  read  aloud  from  "Lady 
Violet/7  he  resolved  to  get  out  of  the  decep 
tion — if  he  could. 

Maginnis  made  himself  so  useful  that  the 
priest  understood  now  what  Father  Dudley 
meant  when  he  had  recommended  the  sexton 
as  his  "valet."  Mrs.  Magee  sent  in  the  meals 
regularly,  and  the  pastor,  having  arranged 
matters  among  his  flock  with  that  mixture  of 
shyness  and  dignity  that  characterized  him, 
thought  that  things  were  going  too  well.  Here 
was  a  man  to  emulate  St.  Laurence — but  where 
was  the  gridiron?  He  tried  to  find  it. 

"You  have  n't  heard  any  complaints,  have 
you,  Maginnis?" 

Maginnis,  reddening  as  usual,  bent  his  whole 
attention  on  the  hat  he  was  brushing. 

"Brother  Gamborious  has  just  been  after 
sayin'  that  if  you  Ve  got  a  pagan  god  on  your 


THE  VALET  OF  THE  PASTOR 

mantelpiece,  't  is  a  bad  example  for  them  that 
do  be  dependin'  on  you  to  lead  them  to  serve 
the  Creator  in  this  world  and  be  happy  forever 
in  the  next." 

"Did  he  say  that?" 

"Her — his  very  words,  your  reverence. — 
The  Lord  forgive  herself  for  puttin'  them  in 
my  head,"  he  added,  aside. 

Father  Blodgett  hesitated. 

"Perhaps  your  brother  is  right,"  he  said  at 
last,  with  a  sigh.  "He  knows  these  folk  better 
than  I  do.  Put  the  Mercury  in  the  closet,  Ma- 
ginnis — that  is  it ! — carefully,  in  the  bottom  of 
the  closet." 

Maginnis  rather  sheepishly  obeyed  him. 

"And  Miss  Violet  Kingswood  do  be  after 
findin'  great  fault  with  your  visits  to  the  Eye- 
talians.  She  says  it  excites  jealousy." 

"But  I  must  visit  these  people ;  they  Ve  been 
neglected  long  enough,"  returned  Father  Blod 
gett,  somewhat  sharply. 

49 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS^ 

Maginnis's  eyes  reproached  him. 

"Go  on."     He  invited  the  thorn. 

"She  says  she  thinks  it  a  shame  that  the 
people  that  are  buildin'  up  the  country  and 
supportin'  the  church  should  be  made  to  take 
back  seats  for  the  Dagos." 

"She  surely  couldn't  have — " 

"I  could  n't  repeat  her  exact  words,  but  them 
was  her  sentiments;  she  spoke  more  refined- 
like,"  replied  Maginnis,  throwing  himself  into 
the  situation. 

"It  is  strange  for  a  non-Catholic  to  take  such 
an  interest  in  my  people,"  said  Father  Blodgett, 
divided  between  gratitude  and  vexation. 
"I  'm  sure  she  could  n't  have  meant  just  what 
you  say.  I  don't  care  to  make  acquaintances, 
but  perhaps  it  is  my  duty  to  see  her.  Where 
does  she  live  ?" 

"Oh,"  exclaimed  Maginnis,  thrown  off  his 
balance,  "she  does  n't  live  in  Bracton  now ;  she 
comes  down  every  day  by  the  B.  and  O.  She  's 

So 


THE  VALET  OF  THE  PASTOR 

a  lady  of  wealth,  and  she  likes  railways  and 
visitin'  the  nagurs." 

Maginnis  was  excited.  He  shuddered  for 
a  moment,  but  he  had  to  go  on. 

"And,  as  it 's  my  duty,  I  '11  have  to  say  that 
Brother  Gamborious  has  been  cut  to  the  ha-art 
that  there  's  so  much  drinkin'  goin'  on  in  this 
house."  Maginnis  did  not  raise  his  eyes, 
but  went  on  counting  Father  Blodgett's 
collars.  "And  I,  savin'  his  presence,  I  told 
him  he  was  wrong.  'It 's  a  small  bottle  of 
wine  only  his  reverence  has/  says  I.  'No  mat 
ter/  says  the  brother;  'it  will  be  hard  to  keep 
up  a  temperance  society  with  them  doin's  goin' 


on/  " 


Father  Blodgett  frowned. 

"It  is  the  Chianti  Mr.  Moldonovo  has  been 
kind  enough  to  send  me.  I  think  that  it  is  only 
a  proper  thing  to  use  it;  but  if — " 

"Miss  Violet  Kingswood  says  that  a  little 
good  whisky  three  or  four  times  a  day 

Si 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

would  n't  be  so  bad;  but  for  the  likes  of  you  to 
be  destroyin'  your  insides  with — " 

"A  lady  say  that!"  exclaimed  Father  Blod- 
gett,  in  amazement.  "Maginnis,  you  've  made 
a  mistake." 

"Faith,  I  have/'  returned  Maginnis,  readily. 
"Now  I  come  to  think  of  it,  'twas  Brother 
Gamborious  said  it.  'Maginnis,'  says  he,  'I  'm 
anxious  for  the  souls  of  the  circular  clergy  and 
the  poor  people  they  govern,  and  it 's  my  belief, 
at  present  speakin',  that  Father  Blodgett  is 
weakenin'  his  influence  by  drinkin'  Eye-talian 
trash  with  his  meals.  Whisky,'  he  says,  says 
he,  'is  drink  for  a  strong  man,  but  red  vinegar 
out  of  a  wicker  basket  is  drink  for  neither  man 
nor  beast.' ' 

Father  Blodgett  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"Total  abstinence  is  best  for  a  priest,  after 
all.  I  suppose  that  is  what  Brother  Gam 
borious  meant.  I  must  break  my  rule  and 

52 


THE  VALET  OF  THE  PASTOR 
call  at  the  monastery  to  make  his  acquaint 


ance." 


"You  '11  not  see  him,"  said  Maginnis, 
promptly.  "He  's  that  humble  that  he  spends 
all  his  time  in  the  cupola  carvin'  wooden  fig 


ures." 


"A  real  medieval  friar,"  said  Father  Blod- 
gett,  brightening.  "It 's  a  great  privilege  to 
hear  from  him.  If  I  seem  somewhat  abrupt, 
don't  imagine,  Maginnis,  that  I  'm  ungrateful 
to  you  or  those  good  people;  but  I  trust  that 
they  don't  speak  in  this  way  to  others." 

"They  speak  only  to  me,  your  reverence,  and 
they  'd  give  a  good  tongue-lashin'  to  anybody 
that  would  say  a  word  against  you,"  asserted 
Maginnis,  emphatically.  "Indeed,  it 's  me  that 
would  n't  stand  it." 

"You  're  a  good,  simple  man,"  Father  Blod- 
gett  said,  much  moved;  "and,"  he  added,  "if 
during  all  our  lives  we  could  get  kind  people  to 

53 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

tell  us  exactly  what  criticisms  our  well-inten 
tioned  friends  were  making  of  us,  we  'd  keep 
more  bravely  toward  the  road  to  perfection/7 

"Your  reverence  never  said  a  truer  wurrud," 
said  Maginnis,  scrubbing  a  soapdish  with  en 
ergy. 

FATHER  BLODGETT  was  exact  in  his  duties;  he 
spoke  little  with  his  grown-up  parishioners,  but 
all  the  children  loved  him.  He  seemed  to  have 
no  sense  of  humor  when  with  older  people,  but 
with  children  his  sense  of  fun  was  great.  He 
understood  them,  he  never  laughed  at  them, 
and  their  joys  and  sorrows  were  as  open  pages 
to  him.  Strange  to  say,  as  yet  Miss  Violet 
Kingswood  and  the  pious  Brother  Gamborious 
had  no  fault  to  find  with  his  conduct  to  the 
children.  And  when  Father  Dudley  surprised 
by  the  unusual  quiet  that  reigned  at  Bracton — 
the  Bractonians  having  by  their  racial  quar 
rels  almost  driven  their  old  pastor  into  the  mo- 

54 


THE  VALET  OF  THE  PASTOR 

nastic  life — asked  Maginnis  about  the  new  pas 
tor,  the  answer  was  evasive : 

"He  's  not  bad  for  a  man  born  in  this  coun 
try,  and  a  convert  at  that ;  but  he  do  be  needin' 
a  deal  of  lookin'  after." 

Father  Dudley  smiled.  In  spite  of  the  bish 
op's  belief  in  Father  Blodgett's  success,  a  kid- 
glove  man  would  never  do. 

Father  Blodgett's  course,  however,  was  not 
entirely  pleasing  to  Miss  Kingswood  or  Broth 
er  Gamborious,  though  they  were  silent  for 
fear  that  the  pastor  might  insist  on  hunting 
them  up.  But  when  the  Society  of  St.  Rita 
— formerly  the  Revolutionary  Association  of 
Garibaldi — announced  a  banquet  in  the  room 
over  the  post-office,  and  Father  Blodgett  had 
agreed  to  address  the  members  in  his  best  Tus 
can,  they  spoke.  It  was  only  after  a  week's 
nagging  from  "herself"  that  Maginnis  was 
forced  to  quote  them. 

"It 's  not  for  the  likes  of  me  to  do  much  talk- 

55 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

in',"  he  said  as  he  brought  in  the  priest's  coffee 
on  the  morning  before  the  banquet,  "but  Miss 
Violet  is  much  hurt  at  the  way  you  're  actin' 
toward  the  Dagos." 

"Please  speak  more  respectfully;  I  will  not 
have  any  of  my  people  misnamed,  Maginnis." 

"Holy  Moses!"  muttered  Maginnis,  under 
his  breath,  "he  '11  begin  by  taking  up  the  nagurs 
next.  Miss  Violet,"  he  went  on  aloud,  "says, 
says  she,  'If  he  goes  on  as  he  does  with  the 
furrigners,  he  '11  be  encouragin'  the  nagurs 
next,  and  we  '11  have  missy-genation  among 
us.  Is  n't,'  she  says,  with  tears  in  her  eyes, 
'isn't  there  enough  Christian  saints  but  that 
Father  Blodgett  should  be  puttin'  up  a  big  fig 
ure  of  a  Da — Eye-talian  saint,  that  nobody 
ever  heard  of,  on  a  side  altar?  It  will  be  the 
ruin  of  the  church,'  says  she;  'I  can  see  with 
my  mind's  eye  mobs  of  Eye-talians  pray  in'  to 
the  queer  saints  and  not  one  payin','  says  she." 

"Does  she  know,"  asked  Father  Blodgett, 

56 


THE  VALET  OF  THE  PASTOR 

severely,  "that  these  poor  Italians  love  St.  Rita 
as  the  servant  of  the  Lord,  and  that  on  the  very 
day  that  statue  went  up,  their  hideous,  atheis 
tical  banners  went  down?  Does  she  know 
that?" 

"I  did  n't  think  your  reverence  would  be  an 
gry  with  a  poor  boy  that's  only  doin'  what  you 
asked  him  to  do.  It 's  little  I  like  to  be  gos- 
sipin'." 

"Perhaps  I  have  done  wrong  to  bother  you 
about  this  matter.  I  need  more  humility  or 
I  should  n't  find  fault  with  your  simplicity. 
What  does  this  Miss  Kingswood  look  like?" 

"She  's  a  short  lady,  with  a  pink  parasol  and 
a  blue  fan." 

"I  think  I  saw  her  yesterday  at  the  post-of 
fice;  and  if  I  meet  her  again  I  '11  speak  to  her." 

"Did  she  wear  men's  high  boots  ?"  demanded 
Maginnis,  in  alarm,  "and  did  she  carry  a 
cane?" 

"No;  certainly  not." 

57 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"Twas  not  Miss  Violet,  then/'  cried  Ma- 
ginnis,  relieved.  "Miss  Violet 's  concentric- 
like." 

"Eccentric?  I  should  think  so.  She  is  un 
reasonable,  too.  The  Italians  are  doing  their 
best." 

"They're  no  good/'  exclaimed  Maginnis, 
unguardedly.  "They  're  no  more  to  be  trust 
ed  than  the  Dutch.  At  least,  them  were  the 
very  words  of  Brother  Gamborious." 

"I  thought  Brother  Gamborious  was  a  Ger 
man  himself,"  said  Father  Blodgett,  coldly. 

There  was  a  pause. 

"It  was  the  Dutch  he  mentioned.  Not  that 
he  's  all  for  his  own  people,  like  the  Eye-tal- 
ians  and  the  Tips." 

Father  Blodgett's  brow  clouded.  He 
propped  a  catalogue  of  a  stained-glass  window 
factory  against  the  sugar-bowl.  Maginnis 
waited  in  trepidation.  The  quiet  was  omi 
nous. 

58 


THE  VALET  OF  THE  PASTOR 

"I  've  been  unreasonable,  too.  I  asked  you 
for  these  opinions,  and  yet  I  'm  growing  irri 
tated  because  you  give  them  to  me  in  your  own 
language.  I  believe  I  'm  as  illogical  as  some 
of  the  higher  critics  of  the  Bible,"  he  added, 
laughing  to  himself.  "You  may  take  my  win 
ter  overcoat/' 

"Thank  you/'  answered  Maginnis  humbly. 
"I  '11  never  say  a  word  again." 

"But  you  must;  and  I  shall  get  accustomed 
to  unpleasant  things.  I  can't  be  angry  with 
an  honest  man." 

Maginnis  winced,  but  the  grasp  of  "herself" 
was  strong  upon  him. 

"Brother  Gamborious  says  that  he  wonders 
why  your  reverence  went  to  the  party  the  other 
night  at  the  O'Keefes',  with  their  fine  silver 
and  china  and  a  pianny,  and  Rosalia  O'Keefe 
with  her  dress  half  off  her  shoulders.  'It 's 
the  ha-ard-workin'  poor,'  he  says,  says  he,  'that 
his  reverence  ought  to  be  visitin'.'  " 

59 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"Brother  Gamborious  ?" 

"Sure,  I  Ve  mixed  'em  up.  'T  was  Miss 
Violet  that  said  it." 

"Miss  Violet  had  better—"  Father  Blodgett 
compressed  his  lips.  "But  go  on." 

"  "T  is  not  good  for  the  clergy  to  be  visitin' 
the  rich/  says  she,  'and  I  vow  to  Heaven  that 
I  hope  the  people  won't  be  noticin'  the  partial 
ity  that  his  reverence  shows  to  the  O'Keefe 
twins.'  " 

Father  Blodgett's  frown  made  Maginnis 
stop.  The  priest's  eyes  were  fixed  in  the  space 
outside  the  east  window. 

"There  is  a  woman  with  a  pink  parasol  go 
ing  into  the  B.  and  O.  station.  It  is  doubtless 
your  Miss  Kingswood.  Give  me  my  hat;  I  '11 
go  and  speak  with  her." 

"Holy  Moses !"  breathed  Maginnis,  "his  rev 
erence  will  think  I  'm  a  liar  if  he  does.  No, 
no.  Miss  Kingswood  left  for  New  York  for 
good  last  night.  She  's  married  a  nagur." 

60 


"Tell  Mrs.  Magee,  with  my  compliments,  to  keep  you  there" 


THE  VALET  OF  THE  PASTOR 

"And  Brother  Gamborious  ?"  said  Father 
Blodgett,  slowly.  "I  must  see  him  at  once, 
then." 

"You  can't!"  shrieked  Maginnis,  losing  his 
presence  of  mind.  "He  died  this  mornin'  with 
dropsy  of  the  ha-art — and,  besides,  he  can't 
speak  English." 

,  Father   Blodgett  gazed  long  at  Maginnis, 
whose  red  hair  paled  in  contrast  with  his  face. 

"You  may  go  home  and  tell  Mrs.  Magee, 
with  my  compliments,  to  keep  you  there." 

"I  only  hope,"  spoke  Maginnis,  putting  his 
head  in  at  the  door,  "that  your  reverence  won't 
think  I  'm  a  liar." 

"Bad  cess  to  herself  for  leadin'  me  into  it," 
he  muttered  on  his  way  to  the  laundry.  "If  I 
get  the  whole  of  the  stations  for  it  as  a  penance 
't  will  be  little  enough ;  but  what  will  herself 
say?  Sure  the  Dagos  and  the  O'Keefes  are 
on  top." 

63 


THE  WILES  OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"I  SEE  with  pleasure/'  said  the  bishop,  reread 
ing  a  letter,  "that  Father  Blodgett  has  united 
the  factions  at  Bracton.  Messrs.  Moldonovo 
and  O'Keefe  have  subscribed  each  a  thousand 
dollars  for  the  completion  of  the  church,  and 
the  societies  of  St.  Patrick  and  St.  Rita  are  to 
have  a  joint  banquet  on  the  Fourth  of  July." 
"It's  a  strange  world,"  responded  Father 
Dudley,  sadly;  "and  nobody's  gladder  than  I 
that  you  were  right  this  time,  bishop." 


64 


Ill 

THE  WARNING 

MAGINNIS  had,  as  usual,  left  the 
contents  of  his  basket  of  washed 
linen  at  the  bishop's  house.  He  loi 
tered  on  his  way  to  the  Bracton  trolley-line 
with  the  secret  hope  that  he  should  meet  Fa 
ther  Dudley,  who  was  about  to  return  from 
his  annual  vacation.  He  had  learned  from  the 
housekeeper  that  Father  Blodgett  was  expected 
to  dinner  and  that  Father  Dudley  might  arrive 
at  any  moment.  The  former  he  desired  to 
avoid;  the  latter  he  wished,  above  all,  to  see. 
It  would  be  a  grievous  thing  for  him  to  go 
back  to  Bracton  without  having  had  a  talk 
with  the  bishop's  secretary.  Maginnis  was 
devoted  to  clerical  society,  and  since  his  un- 

65' 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

pleasantness  with  his  own  pastor,  who  had  too 
ardently  desired  to  meet  some  friends  of  his,  he 
had  been  deprived  of  it.  "Sexton"  was  with 
him  now  merely  a  courtesy  title;  he  was,  it  is 
true,  permitted  to  take  up  the  collection  at  the 
early  masses,  but  at  the  grand  mass  Mr.  Joseph 
O'Keefe  or  Mr.  Giuseppe  Moldonovo  usually 
performed  that  duty.  He  felt  deeply  the  loss 
of  self-respect  and  dignity.  He  had  descended 
in  the  social  scale.  There  was  balm,  however, 
in  the  continuous  interest  which  Father  Dud 
ley  took  in  the  affairs  of  his  family.  His 
mother-in-law,  Mrs.  Magee,  who  had  become 
more  and  more  important  as  she  grew  stouter 
and  prosperous,  had  now  no  source  of  informa 
tion  as  to  the  inner  workings  of  the  parish  of 
St.  Kevin's.  The  pastor  had  heartlessly  en 
gaged  an  ancient  negress  as  cook,  and  her  son, 
Bucephalus  Harrison,  blacked  his  boots  and 
did  many  things  which  the  cook  left  undone. 
Mrs.  Magee  expected  Maginnis  to  bring  home 

66 


THE  WARNING 

to  Bracton  the  ecclesiastical  information  for 
which  her  soul  sighed,  and  Maginnis  was 
afraid  to  return  without  such  scraps  as  he  could 
gather  from  Father  Dudley's  questions  rather 
than  from  his  answers.  Maginnis  stood  on 
the  corner,  in  the  shade  of  a  glistening  mag 
nolia.  He  was  ready  to  flee  if  Father  Blodgett 
should  appear,  or  to  go  forward  if  the  sympa 
thetic  secretary  should  descend  from  a  car. 
He  set  his  empty  basket  against  the  iron  rail 
ing  of  the  churchyard  and  waited.  It  had  just 
struck  eleven  o'clock,  and  he  was  beginning  to 
be  afraid  that  Father  Dudley  would  not  arrive 
on  the  morning  train. 

"Sure,  if  I  don't  see  his  reverence,"  Magin 
nis  thought,  as  he  pushed  back  his  straw  hat  to 
let  the  draft  at  the  corner  smooth  his  perplexed 
brow,  "Herself  will  be  as  cross  as  two  sticks. 
Sure,  't  is  him  that 's  the  kind  man.  'T  is  him 
that 's  the  holy  soggarth.  'T  is  him  that  un 
derstands  us  poor  people,  and  don't  expect  us 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

to  be  like  black  Protestants,  always  thinkin'  of 
human  respect.  He  's  not  a  man  to  blame  you 
for  takin'  a  glass  or  two  on  a  holiday,  and  you 
would  n't  have  to  run  behind  a  dure  with  your 
can  of  beer  if  you  met  him,  as  you  would  from 
some  others."  And  Maginnis  sighed  as  he 
thought  of  the  new  pastor  at  Bracton.  "Why, 
sure,  I  remember  when  Father  Dudley  came 
down  on  me  dark  as  night,  because  Father 
Blodgett  had  tould  him  that  I  was  the  biggest 
liar  in  America ;  and  I  had  n't  a  thing  to  say, 
except  that  I  wasn't  understood,  and  'twas 
him  that  knew  what  was  in  my  own  mind. 
The  Anglo-Saxon  never  understands,'  says 
he;  'but  you  must  n't  let  your  imagination  run 
away  with  you.  'T  is  a  Celtic  fault,'  says  he, 
'and  colder  climes,'  says  he,  'are  jarred  by  it.' 
But  he  never  said  I  lied;  to  hear  Father 
Blodgett's  words,  you  'd  think  I  'd  committed 
a  mortal  sin — and  me  only  tellin'  him  things 
for  his  own  good." 

68 


THE  WARNING 

Maginnis's  eyes  glowed  suddenly,  and  a 
wide  grin  showed  his  white  teeth.  A  car  had 
stopped,  and  from  it  descended  Father  Dudley, 
tall,  thin,  and  erect  as  usual,  with  a  touch  of 
sunburn  on  his  cheeks.  Maginnis  ran  forward 
and  seized  his  bag.  Father  Dudley  smiled  be- 
nignantly. 

"1 11  just  leave  my  basket  here,  and  go  home 
with  you  and  unpack,"  Maginnis  said.  "And 
you  're  well,  sir?" 

"Oh,  I  have  to  be  well,  Maginnis,  in  spite  of 
the  anxiety  I  have  about  the  bishop  whenever 
I  go  away.  I  heard  there  's  smallpox  in  the 
parish,  and  so  I  came  back  at  once.  He  's  ca 
pable  of  catching  it  the  moment  I  'm  out  of  the 
way,  instead  of  sending  an  assistant.  But  how 
are  things  in  Bracton?" 

Maginnis  shook  his  head  and  sighed. 

"St.  Rita's  base-ball  club,  made  up  of  the 
Dagos,  knocked  the  Holy  Angels  to  smither 
eens  last  Saturday,  and  they  nearly  all  the  sons 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

of  Kerry  boys;  but  All  the  Saints  paid  them 
back  on  Monday.  His  reverence  won't  let  the 
Holy  Angels'  Sodality  have  a  progressive  eu 
chre;  he  says  it  will  lead  to  gamblin'." 

"I  don't  know  where  Steve  Blodgett's  rigor 
ism  will  end,"  murmured  Father  Dudley,  the 
wrinkles  beginning  to  show  again  under  his 
eyes ;  "but  it 's  not  my  business.  Father 
Blodgett's  nephew,"  he  said  aloud,  "is  coming 
down  for  a  week  or  two  at  Bracton,  I  hear 
from  the  bishop's  house.  He  's  not  one  of  our 
own  people,  and  I  hope  everything  will  be  done 
to  show  him  that  faith  and  good  morals  are 
inseparable.  By  the  way,  Maginnis,"  broke 
off  Father  Dudley,  with  what  he  considered  ex 
quisite  art,  "are  there  many  attractive  young 
girls  about  St.  Kevin's?" 

Maginnis  was  in  the  act  of  ringing  the  bell ; 
he  purposely  omitted  to  answer,  for  fear  Fa 
ther  Dudley  might  not  invite  him  up-stairs. 

"I  '11  carry  your  bag,"  he  said  with  alacrity, 
70 


THE  WARNING 

"and  you  '11  need  a  good  brushin'  before  you 
go  down  to  dinner." 

"Thank  you,  Maginnis,"  answered  Father 
Dudley,  graciously.  "When  a  young  man  is 
so  anxious  to  visit  his  uncle  in  a  dull  town, 
there 's  always  a  female  in  the  case,"  he 
thought. 

Maginnis  opened  the  priest's  closely  packed 
bag  before  he  answered  the  question.  It  was 
not  repeated;  Father  Dudley,  as  a  diplomatist, 
felt  that  the  underscoring  of  words  was  not 
real  art. 

"Indeed,  father,"  said  Maginnis,  rejoiced 
that  he  had  something  to  build  on  for  the  edi 
fication  of  Herself,  "there  's  a  great  crowd  of 
nice,  well-behaved  young  women  in  the  parish ; 
but  for  bold,  brazen  good  looks,  as  Herself,  as 
Mrs.  Magee,  says,  there 's  Rosalia  O'Keefe, 
the  daughter  of  that  dirty  and  purse-proud 
Tipperary  man,  and  Isabella  Moldonovo — sure, 
her  name  tells  what  she  is." 

71 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"Mr.  O'Keefe  is  an  eminently  respectable 
man,  and  his  new  soap-works  are  doing  much 
for  the  town." 

Maginnis  tried  to  snort  respectfully. 

"Father  Blodgett's  nephew  is,  I  understand, 
an  agnostic,  and  I  should  be  sorry  to  hear  of 
a  mixed  marriage  of  that  sort  in  St.  Kevin's. 
A  bad  example  spreads.  Oh,  there  's  the  din 
ner-bell,  Maginnis!  Go  into  the  kitchen  and 
get  something  to  eat,  and  here — "  A  dollar 
changed  hands. 

Maginnis,  in  haste,  ran  through  the  kitchen 
to  find  his  basket  and  depart  on  the  first  car. 
There  would  be  no  doubt  of  Herself's  good 
humor  now. 

Father  Dudley  reverently  paused  for  a  mo 
ment  as  the  angelus  rang,  and  then  descended 
to  the  dining-room  with  such  an  air  of  "recol 
lection"  that  the  Rev.  Stephen  Blodgett,  who 
was  waiting  on  the  bishop's  right  in  the  dining- 
room,  was  moved  to  humble  admiration. 

72 


THE  WARNING 

"Delighted  to  see  you  back,"  said  the  bishop, 
as  the  maid  served  a  soup  so  lukewarm  that 
Father  Dudley  surmised  the  need  of  a  tighter 
hand  in  the  household.  "I  suppose  you  have 
been  so  much  in  the  gay  world  that  you  '11 
scorn  a  dinner  in  the  middle  of  the  day. 
You  '11  find  it  hard  to  dine  before  eight 
o'clock,"  said  the  bishop,  amiably;  "and  if  I  'd 
been  sure  of  your  coming,  I  'd  have  ordered 
vol-au-vents,  at  least." 

"My  feet  have  never  trod  the  path  of  lux 
ury,"  said  Father  Dudley,  frowning  at  the  sec 
ond  spoonful  of  soup. 

"  'Dalliance,'  "  put  in  the  bishop,  gravely — 
"  'primrose  path  of  dalliance'  is  better.  Never 
lose  a  chance  to  quote  Shakspere." 

"If  I  have  any  time,  I  prefer  to  give  it  to  St. 
Thomas,  bishop,"  answered  Father  Dudley, 
gloomily.  "In  these  days  of  rash  scientific 
speculation,  when  religion  and  the  principles  of 
secular  knowledge  need  to  be  constantly  united, 

73 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

the  'Summa'  becomes  more  and  more  the  basis 
of  serious  reflection  for  the  man  who  would 
meet  practically  the  evils  of  the  day." 

Father  Blodgett,  unmindful  of  certain  lumps 
of  fat  in  the  soup,  was  listening  with  unfeigned 
and  self-reproachful  interest,  when  the  door 
bell  rang,  and  a  card  was  brought  to  the  bishop. 

"'Mr.  Guy  Wetherill,' "  he  read.  "Your 
nephew,  Father  Blodgett?"  he  asked,  with  a 
smile. 

"Yes,  your  lordship;  I  asked  him  to  meet  me 
here.  He  has  been  overworked,  poor  boy! 
They  have  given  him  his  Ph.D  at  the  univer 
sity  at  Schleswigstein,  and  he 's  coming  to 
Bracton  with  me  for  a  week  or  two  of  pastoral 
life." 

"Glad  of  it,"  said  the  bishop,  heartily.  "If 
we  don't  have  young  people  about  us,  we  can't 
keep  young.  Put  a  plate  next  to  Father 
Blodgett,  Mary,  and  tell  Mr.  Wetherill  to  come 


in." 


74 


THE  WARNING 

"He  has  probably  lunched,"  said  Father 
Dudley,  politely. 

"Well,  he  hasn't  dined,"  said  the  bishop, 
"and  boys  of  his  age  can  always  eat.  Mary, 
bring  up  a  bottle  of  the  Riorga.  We  can't  of 
fer  American  claret  to  a  Ph.D.  in  chemistry." 

Mr.  Guy  Wetherill  entered,  with  a  little 
touch  of  engaging  awkwardness  and  an  angu 
larity  of  attitude  assumed  to  correct  it. 

He  clicked  his  heels  after  the  German  man 
ner  when  he  bowed,  and  gazed,  with  eyes  softly 
intelligent,  through  a  pair  of  gold-rimmed  spec 
tacles  at  the  bishop.  He  was  spare,  with 
plenty  of  muscle  and  a  softly  tinted  complex 
ion,  set  off  by  a  pointed  blond  beard.  The 
bishop  liked  his  eyes,  and  concluded  that  his 
air  of  angular  priggishness  was  acquired. 

"Glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Wetherill.  You 
haven't  lunched.  That  doesn't  matter. 
Roast  beef  can  be  eaten  at  any  time.  Just  back 
from  Germany?" 

75 


THE  WILES  OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"Yes,"  Wetherill  was  about  to  say  "sir,"  but 
hesitated.  "I  finished  there;  that  is,  I  mean 
I  Ve  been  taught  to  begin  there." 

"And  may  I  inquire  to  what  study  you  have 
devoted  yourself?"  asked  Father  Dudley. 

"Oh,  I  worked  with  Schweinweil  in  chemis 
try,  took  physics  with  Grimstow,  psychology 
with  Smicht,  and  did  some  comparative  re 
ligion  under  Von  Schleicher.  My  thesis — I 
beg  pardon?" 

"I  suppose  that  the  basis  of  your  studies  in 
comparative  religion  was  a  negation  of  Chris 
tian  revelation,"  returned  Father  Dudley. 

Father  Blodgett  turned  red.  The  bishop's 
secretary  took  out  his  bandana,  wiped  his  fore 
head,  and  waited  for  a  reply.  The  bishop 
raised  his  napkin  to  his  lips,  and  his  eyes 
twinkled. 

"Oh,  I  can't  say  that  I  went  deep.  I  just 
looked  into  things  a  little  under  Von  Schleicher 
who  is  a  jolly  little  chap.  We  didn't  deny 

76 


THE  WARNING 

anything;  we  just  examined  the  idea  of  immor 
tality  as  expressed  in  various  tribe-myths/'" 

"Tribe-myths !"  murmured  Father  Dudley, 
sarcastically. 

"St.  Kevin's  has  n't  acquired  electric  lights 
yet?"  asked  the  bishop  of  the  unhappy  Father 
Blodgett,  knowing  well  that  he  could  not  create 
a  diversion,  but  not  wishing  to  appear  cruel. 

"I  presume,"  continued  the  secretary  before 
Father  Blodgett  could  open  his  lips,  "that  your 
Von  Schleicher  did  not  postulate  a  creative 
force,  that  he  did  not  once  consider  the  Power 
that  tinges  the  rose  and  makes  the  dewdrops 
sparkle  in  May  on  the  same  flower." 

"Certainly  he  did,  sir,"  said  young  Wether- 
ill,  gazing  through  his  glasses  in  mild  surprise. 
"No  scientific  man  fails  to  postulate — if  you 
like  the  word — a  creative  force  now." 

"You  amaze  me,"  said  Father  Dudley,  for 
getting  his  beef  in  the  joy  of  battle.  "Herbert 
Spencer — Huxley — " 

77 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"Oh,  nobody  bothers  about  Spencer's  philo 
sophical  guesses  at  present,"  said  the  angular 
Wetherill,  squaring  his  elbows  to  cut  his  beef. 
"He  's  out.  Von  Schleicher's  a  better  man." 

Father  Dudley  felt  as  if  his  tower  of  strength 
had  fallen.  If  Spencer  were  "out"  of  it,  what 
would  become  of  that  long  series  of  sermons, 
carefully  type-written,  in  which  that  agnostic 
philosopher  had  been  so  carefully  refuted? 

"You  do  not  mean  to  say  that  Spencer,  with 
all  his  knowledge  and  force  of  argument,  il 
logical  as  it  is,  has  been  set  aside  by  a  group  of 
superficial  Germans?" 

"Father  Dudley,"  said  the  bishop,  looking 
demurely  at  his  plate,  "you  will  not,  I  beg,  go 
so  far  as  to  eulogize  Spencer  at  this  table." 

Father  Dudley  was  speechless. 

"I  am  glad,  my  dear  Mr.  Wetherill,"  the 
bishop  added,  looking  at  the  young  doctor  with 
that  unfeigned  interest  that  made  him  a  power 

78 


THE  WARNING 

with  youth,  "that  Von  Schleicher  has  not  made 
you  an  infidel." 

"Oh, -no,"  answered  Wetherill,  cheerfully;  "I 
am  sure  that  I  could  n't  be  influenced  by  any 
body.  The  only  thing  I  care  for  in  tlie  world 
is  the  seeking  for  truth;  research  is  the  only 
work  in  life.  All  truth  is  sacred.  I  am  at 
work  on  a  suggestion  as  to  the  drying  of  al 
cohol." 

"I  wish  all  alcohol  could  be  dried — out  of  the 
world,"  said  Father  Blodgett,  fervently.  "If 
you  knew  the  factory  hands  at  Br acton, 
you  'd— " 

"Oh,  I  was  only  speaking  in  a  scientific  way, 
uncle,"  said  Wetherill,  loftily;  "that  is,  I  am 
not  trying  for  practical  results.  But  as  to  re 
ligion,  I  think  it 's  all  a  matter  of  psychology. 
I  followed  a  little  of  Otto-Sommerschein's  work 
— psychological  political  economics — and  I 
think  that 's  the  truth.  If  you  're  psycholog- 

79 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

ically  medieval,  like  you,  uncle,  you  '11  like  the 
medieval  point  of  view ;  but  a  chap  ought  to  be 
decently  tolerant,  you  know." 

The  bishop  looked  gravely  at  the  pleasant, 
pink-tinted  face  before  him,  with  its  odd  touch 
of  pedantry  and  over-training. 

"You  Ve  never  suffered  much,  my  dear 
boy,"  he  said  gently. 

Wetherill  looked  puzzled. 

"I  don't  think  that  would  ever  make  me  be 
lieve  in  religion.  The  idea  of  a  personal  God 
is  out  of  my  line.  It 's  gone  out." 

"With  Spencer,"  murmured  the  bishop. 

"And  I  Jm  sure  nothing  could  change  my 
views.  I  'm  perfectly  open  to  all  impressions 
that  will  stand  the  test  of  scientific  analysis," 
added  Wetherill,  with  airy  conviction.  "What 
you  call  the  soul  I  can't  see,  and  I — " 

"Have  you  read  St.  Thomas?"  demanded 
Father  Dudley,  sternly.  "  'Et  haec  est  dem- 
onstratio  Aristoteles.  Relinquitur — J ' 

80 


THE  WARNING 

"Oh,  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say. 
But  I  can  see  the  beating  of  a  sheep's  heart; 
and  the  combination  of  any  gases  that  will  com 
bine  is  more  important  than  all  metaphysical 
speculations.  I  think  that  the  carriage  has 
come  for  my  uncle,  sir ;  I  '11  run  out  and  tell 
the  man  to  wait." 

And  Wetherill  rose  as  lightly  as  if  he  had 
never  followed  the  work  of  Otto-Sommer- 
schein. 

"A  nice  boy/'  said  the  bishop;  "he  has  a 
good  face." 

"What  morals  do  you  think  he  can  have  with 
such  devilish  sentiments?"  demanded  Father 
Dudley.  He  had  forgotten  Father  Blod- 
gett. 

"I  'm  sure  that  my  nephew  is  a  gentleman ; 
the  Wetherills  have  always  cultivated  sound 
morality,"  said  Father  Blodgett,  flushing. 
"Guy's  people  have  always  been  decent,  and  I 
consider  that  the  purity  of  my  ancestors  was  a 

81 


THE  WILES  OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

factor  in  securing  me  the  grace  of  conversion. 
The  Wetherills— " 

"Gentlemen!"  said  Father  Dudley,  bringing 
his  fist  down  on  the  table.  "Morality!  Look 
at  your  Four  Hundred !" 

Father  Blodgett  seemed  utterly  disgusted, 
and  then  very  unhappy. 

"Nonsense!"  said  the  bishop,  peeling  a 
peach.  "You  take  the  boy  too  seriously. 
He  's  speaking  the  cant  of  his  college.  I  'm 
sorry  that  he  is,  of  course ;  but  you  '11  find  that 
if  he  marries  the  right  woman  she  '11  do  more 
than  even  St.  Thomas  in  the  way  of  bringing 
him  to  a  rational  view  of  life." 

"I  trust  that  he  will  not  marry  a  dissenter," 
said  Father  Blodgett,  anxiously,  "or  anybody 
beneath  his  rank  socially." 

"I  reckon  that  a  fine,  honest  girl  with  the 
faith,  but  no  social  frills  about  her,  would  n't 
be  good  enough  for  him,"  exclaimed  Father 
Dudley,  exasperated  beyond  endurance.  "She 

82 


THE  WARNING 

would  n't  be  good  enough,  though  she  might 
save  the  young  scoffer's  soul.  Excuse  me, 
Steve  Blodgett,  but  you  're  no  better  than  a 
Modernist." 

There  was  silence.  Father  Blodgett's  lips 
moved. 

"An  honest,  hard-working  Irish  girl 
would  n't  be  good  enough  for  him,  unless  she 
was  of  his  class,"  repeated  Father  Dudley. 
"It 's  the  old  aristocracy  that  brought  about  the 
French  Revolution  coming  back  in  this  land  of 
the  free." 

Father  Blodgett's  face  reddened;  his  lips 
moved  silently. 

"And  it 's  this  infidel  you  are  taking  into  the 
innocent,  simple-minded  congregation  at  St. 
Kevin's.  I  must  finish  a  letter,  bishop,  and 
I  Ve  no  patience."  And  the  secretary  left,  car 
rying,  as  was  his  wont,  his  cigar  and  coffee- 
cup  with  him. 

"He  has  a  heart  of  gold,"  said  the  bishop, 

83 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

looking  after  him.  "Don't  argue  with  this 
nephew  of  yours,  Blodgett." 

"I  can  only  pray/'  said  Father  Blodgett — 
"only  pray,  your  lordship.  I  am  glad  that  I 
have  strength  enough  not  to  resent  Father 
Dudley's  words/' 

"And  if  he  should  meet  a  nice  girl  of  pro 
nounced  Christian  belief,  don't  worry  about  her 
pedigree.  He  's  some  money  of  his  own  ?" 

"He 's  well  off  in  the  things  of  this  world," 
said  Father  Blodgett,  with  a  sigh.  "But  if  he 
should  happen  to  marry  a  Catholic?  Your 
lordship  doesn't  approve  of  mixed  mar 
riages  ?" 

"You  know  my  opinion,"  said  the  bishop, 
with  dignity.  "As  a  rule,  no;  but  if  the  party 
of  the  second  part  happens  to  be  a  real  woman, 
the  party  of  the  first  part  will  soon  have  to  be 
lieve  in  the  Apostles'  Creed." 

Father  Blodgett  seemed  puzzled. 

"Thank  you,  my  lord,"  he  said  meekly. 


THE  WARNING 

The  bishop  stirred  his  coffee  and  looked  at 
his  guest  intently.  Father  Blodgett  had  for 
gotten  the  bishop;  he  was  gazing  at  the  copy 
of  Da  Vinci's  "Last  Supper"  on  the  wall. 

"  'Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart/  "  the  bishop 
thought.  "Here  comes  your  nephew/'  he  said 
aloud.  "Let  us  go  up  to  my  rooms  and 
smoke." 

"I  am  glad/'  thought  the  secretary  as,  at  the 
sound  of  footsteps,  he  shut  the  door  of  his 
room,  "that  I  warned  Maginnis  before  this 
ravening  wolf  of  an  infidel  goes  among  the 
good  people  of  St.  Kevin's.  He  '11  never  see 
the  light,  in  spite  of  his  uncle.  Oh,  the  dog 
matism  of  science !  His  conversion  is  no  more 
likely  than  my  perversion."  And  he  flung 
himself  at  the  type-writing  machine  with  the 
nervous  energy  of  a  man  who  longed  to  set  the 
world  right. 

IN   the   meantime    Father    Blodgett   and   his 

85 


THE  WILES  OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

nephew  drove  over  the  road,  between  locust- 
and  walnut-trees,  magnolias  and  crape-myrtles, 
in  reddish-purple  bloom,  toward  Bracton. 
Wetherill  talked  about  his  dead  mother,  and 
Father  Blodgett's  heart  yearned  over  his  little 
sister's  boy. 

Neither  Maginnis  nor  his  wife  nor  Herself 
ever  met  the  O'Keefes,  except  at  church,  or  at 
some  of  the  functions  connected  with  the 
church.  There  had  been  a  time  when  matters 
were  different,  but  since  the  head  of  the 
O'Keefes  had  become  mayor  of  Bracton,  prin 
cipally  through  the  "Dago"  vote,  as  Mrs.  Ma- 
gee  regretfully  remarked,  neither  she  nor  any 
of  her  "belongings"  darkened  the  door  of  the 
"creature"  who  had  alienated  the  regards  of  a 
number  of  his  compatriots  by  growing  richer 
and  richer  every  day  in  company  with  Giu 
seppe  Moldonovo.  The  new  soap-factory, 
needing  only  more  expert  direction  to  be  thor 
oughly  successful,  had  added  to  the  dislike  of 

86 


THE  WARNING 

the  Kerry  people  for  the  Italo-Tipperary  com 
bination. 

"It 's  a  Dago  trust,"  Herself  said,  and  Sex 
ton  Maginnis  repeated  it. 

Since  the  building  of  the  new  house  by  the 
river  and  the  political  elevation  of  her  hus 
band,  Mrs.  O'Keefe  was  obliged  to  appear  in 
public  incased  in  a  jet-decorated  black  silk 
gown,  from  which  her  generous  proportions 
seemed  only  too  willing  to  escape,  especially 
when  she  sighed  over  the  old  days  when  the 
"childer"  were  all  little.  She  would  have  liked 
a  little  gossip  among  the  delightful  soapy 
smells  of  Mrs.  Magee's  laundry  or  even  in  her 
own  parlor ;  but,  though  she  was  willing  to  de 
scend,  Herself  could  not  be  persuaded  to  as 
cend. 

"I  know  me  place,"  Herself  was  wont  to  say, 
with  an  accent  which  showed  that  it  was  a 
very  exalted  one. 

If,  however,  Mrs.  Magee  was  ever  tempted 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

to  act  against  her  principles,  it  was  when 
Maginnis  came  home  with  the  news  that  Fa 
ther  Blodgett's  nephew  was  to  visit  Bracton. 
In  the  primitive  code  of  Mrs.  Magee  a  young 
man  in  Bracton  meant  that  there  would  be 
serious  attentions  and  perhaps  intentions  on 
his  part,  and  logically  all  the  possible  objects 
of  his  probable  advances  were  reviewed  by  her. 
As  society  existed,  there  were  only  two  young 
and  unengaged  women  whom  the  priest's 
nephew  would  have  a  right  to  meet — Rosalia 
O'Keefe,  who  had  been  away  at  a  convent 
school  for  a  year,  and  Isabella  Moldonovo,  who 
had  spent  six  months  in  Italy.  Although 
Maginnis  tried  to  be  truthful  when  he  was  not 
frightened,  he  had  somewhat  embroidered  Fa 
ther  Dudley's  few  words  with  little  flowers  of 
his  own. 

"It 's  a  black  infidel  that 's  comin'  to  catch 
the  stuck-up  O'Keefe  girl,  if  he  can.  Father 
Dudley  warned  me." 

88 


THE  WARNING 

"Serves  her  right,  the  bold  thing !"  said  Her 
self,  giving  Maginnis  his  second  cup  of  coffee, 
while  his  wife  languidly  changed  the  twins 
from  right  to  left, — for  one  was  bigger  than 
the  other, — and  rivited  her  attention  on  "The 
Hidden  Hand/'  which  was  propped  up  on  the 
table  before  her. 

"Is  he  rich,  the  black  infidel?" 

"Drippin*  with  diamonds,"  promptly  an 
swered  Maginnis,  with  his  eyes  on  Herself. 

"Then  you  '11  go  down  to-night  and  warn  the 
mother,"  said  Mrs.  Magee,  with  compressed 
lips. 

Maginnis  turned  a  painful  red.  He  had 
hoped  for  an  uninterrupted  evening  with  Mary 
Ann  and  the  delectable  "Hidden  Hand,"  whose 
adventures  he  had  discovered  on  a  stand  de 
voted  to  second-hand  books;  but  Herself  had 
spoken. 

Rosalia  O'Keefe  was  seated  on  the  cherry- 
covered  stool  in  front  of  the  upright  piano  in 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

the  twilight,  trying  "Violets"  in  a  very  rich, 
soft  voice.  She  had  learned  a  little  German 
at  the  convent,  when  her  father  had  an  eye  on 
the  coming  Hanoverian  vote,  and  she  was  ut 
tering  the  words  with  a  strange  pronunciation. 
The  pink  light  from  a  shaded  lamp  on  the 
piano  showed  a  young  woman  of  about  twenty- 
two,  attired  in  a  white  frock  which  accentuated 
all  her  best  points.  She  was  a  brunette  as  to 
the  color  of  her  skin ;  her  hair,  worn  after  the 
pompadour  manner,  was  reddish  and  very 
abundant;  and,  in  the  dim  light,  she  gave  the 
impression  of  strength  and  grace.  She  was  in 
a  happy  mood,  for  she  and  Isabella  Moldonovo 
were,  on  the  morrow,  to  start  for  the  annual 
August  trip  to  Atlantic  City,  where  Isabella's 
Genoese  godmother  kept  a  hotel.  The  pros 
pect  was  alluring,  and  all  her  boxes  were 
packed.  Mrs.  O'Keefe,  stout  and  sighing  fre 
quently,  sat  in  the  shade  near  a  window.  Her 
tight  silk  bodice  inconvenienced  her,  but  she 

90 


THE  WARNING 

liked  to  feel  the  curtain  against  her  face;  she 
knew  that  it  was  real  Limerick  lace. 

The  door-bell  tinkled,  and  Rosalia  rose  to 
welcome  Maginnis.  Mrs.  O'Keefe  was 
pleased.  Maginnis  was  evidently  abashed  by 
the  splendor  of  Rosalia.  He  held  fast  to  his 
hat,  but  took  a  chair.  There  was  some  polite 
conversation,  during  which  Rosalia  softly 
played  the  accompaniment  of  "Violets." 

"Do  she  be  hearin'  us?"  Maginnis  asked  at 
last,  edging  nearer  to  Mrs.  O'Keefe;  he  could 
stand  the  strain  of  beating  about  the  bush  no 
longer. 

"Who?  Rose?  Oh,  I  don't  think  she  's  lis 
tening." 

"It  Js  about  her  I  want  to  talk,"  said  Magin 
nis,  in  a  weird  whisper;  "and  if  I  was  a  ban 
shee,  I  could  n't  be  after  bringin'  a  more  sol 
emn  message." 

Mrs.  O'Keefe's  breath  seemed  to  stop. 

"A  warning?" 

91 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAG1NNIS 

The  accompaniment  ceased,  too. 

"And  Herself  said  't  was  to  you  alone/' 

"Rose,"  said  Mrs.  O'Keefe,  in  a  tremulous 
voice,  for  Maginnis's  tone  gave  the  impression 
that  he  had  come  direct  from  another  world. 
"Rose,  please  go  into  the  log-ya." 

Mrs.  O'Keefe  had  endeavored  to  master, 
under  her  daughter's  tuition,  the  name  of  the 
proudest  apartment  of  the  new  house,  and  she 
hoped  to  placate  her  by  using  it. 

"I  will  not  go  into  the  loggia,  mama/'  an 
swered  Rosalia,  calmly.  "If  Mr.  Maginnis  is 
going  to  talk  about  me,  I  '11  stay  where  I  am." 

Rosalia  stood  up  as  a  tower  of  ivory.  Her 
mother  sighed  deeply;  Maginnis  dropped  his 
hat. 

"Go  on !"  said  Rosalia,  calmly  standing. 

"It 's  not  me  that  would  be  after  meddlin'," 
said  Maginnis,  in  a  tone  so  very  human  that 
Mrs.  O'Keefe  gained  courage,  "but  there  's  a 
young  boy,  a  black  infidel,  comin'  down  here  to 

92 


THE  WARNING 

visit  the  priest,  and  Herself  is  afraid  that  your 
daughter  might  be  taken  in  by  him.  He  's  a 
deludher  and  no  mistake,  with  a  soul  as  black 
as  the  ace  of  spades,  I'm  told;  and  Herself 
says  that,  as  he  's  much  above  the  O'Keefes  in 
their  state  of  life,  Rose  here  might  set  her  cap, 
and—" 

"I  understand  it  all,"  said  Rosalia.  "Mama, 
if  papa  were  here,  I  should  not  be  so  insulted. 
I  will  not  go  to  Atlantic  City;  I  will  wait  and 
face  this  man,  and  show  these  malicious  per 
sons  that  I  am  not  afraid  of  anybody." 

She  left  the  room  without  looking  at  the 
visitor.  There  was  silence,  broken  only  by  a 
sigh  or  two. 

"Heaven  knows  I  Ve  done  my  best,"  said 
Maginnis,  bewildered. 

"I  don't  know,  I  don't  know.  Rosalia 's 
quick-tempered,"  said  Mrs.  O'Keefe.  "She 
rules  the  house.  But  how  are  the  twins, 
Maginnis  ?" 

93 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

GUY  WETHERILL  adapted  himself  to  the  ways 
of  the  priest's  house,  which  were  simple  and 
frugal  ways.  He  fished,  used  his  kodak,  and 
visited  the  factories.  On  the  Sunday  follow 
ing  his  coming  to  Bracton  his  uncle  had  asked 
him  to  go  to  mass. 

"Oh,  no,"  he  said,  "thank  you.  I  studied 
the  psychological  phenomena  of  your  services 
at  Naples,  when  Von  Schleicher  was  there 
with  me  in  his  sabbatical  year." 

Father  Blodgett  said  nothing;  he  only 
prayed  the  longer  after  mass  that  day.  Had 
he  been  right  in  asking  the  boy  down  to  this 
crude  little  town?  To  be  sure,  his  nephew 
needed  rest  and  quiet  and  safety  from  intel 
lectual  pressure;  but,  for  the  sake  of  his  soul, 
should  he  not  have  been  placed  where  the  cere 
monies  of  the  church  were  performed  magnifi 
cently  and  where  the  philosophy  of  religion 
could  be  so  viewed  as  to  affect  his  intellect? 
And  then  there  were  no  persons  of  Guy's  own 

94 


THE  WARNING 

class  in  Bracton  who  could  give  a  social  bloom 
to  faith.  For  the  first  time  he  regretted  that 
there  was  n't  an  evening  coat  in  the  town. 
The  honest  vulgarity  of  the  people,  whom  he 
loved  spiritually,  would  prejudice  the  boy 
against  the  church,  he  feared.  The  Wetherills 
— Guy  was  the  grandson  of  that  famous  old 
minister  to  England  for  whom  he  himself  had 
been  named — had  always  been  ultra-refined. 
Father  Blodgett,  in  his  doubt,  could  only  pray, 
and  fear  that  he  himself  was  too  much  of  the 
world. 

Guy,  his  nerves  in  good  condition  now, 
looked  for  companionship.  The  study  of  the 
factories  began  to  bore  him,  though  O'Keefe 
had  taken  a  liking  to  him,  and  he  had  helped 
that  red-haired,  masterful  Tipperary  man 
with  some  valuable  chemical  advice.  O'Keefe 
wanted  to  ask  Wetherill  to  tea,  but  Rosalia, 
who  had  let  Isabella  Moldonovo  go  down  to 
the  sea  alone,  would  not  hear  of  it,  and  she 

95 


THE  WILES  OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

would  give  no  reason.  This  condition  was 
soon  known  at  the  Olympia  Laundry. 

"  JT  was  an  inspiration/'  said  Mrs.  Magee, 
proudly ;  "the  girl 's  saved  from  the  wiles  of 
the  deludher !" 

Mary  Ann,  who  had  just  turned  the  last  page 
of  "The  Hidden  Hand/'  smiled;  she  remem 
bered  a  time  when  she  wore  a  hat  with  blue 
bows. 

Wetherill  began  to  be  lonely.  He  found  as 
much  laboratory  exercise  as  he  cared  for  in 
the  soap-works,  but  at  this  time  he  did  not  want 
much,  for  it  was  summer  and  there  was  no 
Otto-Sommerschein  about.  The  books  sup 
plied  him  by  his  uncle  he  tried  to  read;  but 
even  an  erudite  work  on  "Symbolism"  and 
Jourdain's  "Philosophic  de  Saint  Thomas 
d'Aquin"  put  him  to  sleep,  and  his  uncle  began 
to  fear  more  and  more  that  the  visit  to  Brae- 
ton  was  spiritually  a  mistake.  Some  French 
sonnets,  which  had  strayed  into  the  bookcase, 


THE  WARNING 

interested  him  after  he  had  seen  a  tall  girl  with 
red-tinted  hair  and  the  color  of  a  pink  oleander 
in  her  cheeks  step  out  of  a  surrey  and  cross 
the  pavement  in  front  of  the  photographer's. 
Her  white  parasol  became  entangled  in  the 
fringe  of  the  low  awning  over  the  door. 
Wetherill  sprang  forward.  She  gave  him  a 
glance,  but  did  not  thank  him.  He  went  back 
to  the  sonnets. 

"And    fills    with    heaven's    gold    the    dazzled 
street," 

he  repeated. 

"It  must  have  been  Rosalia  O'Keefe — a 
white  soul,"  said  the  priest,  in  answer  to  his 
artful  questions.  "She  sings  in  the  choir  and 
looks  after  the  altar.  You  're  not  likely  to 
meet  her;  she  has  a  different  point  of  view — 
socially,  you  know." 

Father  Blodgett  fancied  that  this  conveyed 
to  his  nephew  a  very  delicate  hint.  "I  would 

97 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

give  anything  in  the  world  if  that  dear  boy 
could  have  the  consolation  of  faith/'  he 
thought,  as  Wetherill  went  off  with  his  kodak 
in  the  direction  of  the  photographer's. 

O'Keefe,  broad,  burly,  and  cheerful,  was  at 
the  corner,  shaking  hands  with  a  group  of 
Italian  laborers  and  their  wives  who  were 
starting  for  a  picnic,  given  at  his  expense ;  for 
he  was  an  expert  politician.  Wetherill  noticed 
that  his  daughter  was  like  him  in  her  high  color 
and  air  of  strength;  but  how  exquisite,  with 
all  this  resemblance!  The  Italians  drifted, 
with  a  brass  band  in  the  direction  of  the 
river.  O'Keefe  shook  hands  cordially  with 
Wetherill. 

"A  score  of  votes  there,"  he  said  with  a  soft 
brogue.  "And  I  'm  glad  to  thank  you  again 
for  the  help  you  gave  the  foreman  the  other 
day ;  the  new  soap  's  the  finest  stuff  yet. — It 's 
you,  is  it?" 

Rosalia,  in  a  plumed  hat  and  white  gown, 


THE  WARNING 

had  approached  to  speak  to  her  father,  ignor 
ing  Wetherill. 

"My  daughter  Rosalia,  Mr.  Wetherill;  and 
I  Jm  glad  to  make  you  acquainted.  She 's 
stayed  at  home  because  father  couldn't  go 
with  her  to  the  sea,  and  she  deserves  to  meet 
a  nice  young  man."  O'Keefe  laughed  heart- 
ily. 

Wetherill  drew  his  heels  together  and 
clicked  them.  Rosalia  looked  at  him,  smiled 
slightly,  and  began  to  ask  her  father  questions. 
Such  eyes !  A  bit  of  a  sonnet  stole  across  his 
mind: 

"You  were  so  slow  to  draw  the  graceful  shade 
Of  tremulous  eyelash  which  deep   shadows 

made 
That  from  the  darkness  shot  a  star's  long 

ray." 

Wetherill  waited;  but  he  gained  nothing  by 
it.  Rosalia  turned  with  another  engaging 
smile  for  her  father,  which  showed  faultless 

99 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

teeth,  just  in  time  to  enter  the  surrey,  driven 
up  by  one  of  her  freckled  little  brothers. 
Wetherill  was  left  to  gaze  at  the  pensile 
white  plumes  and  the  floating  lace  of  the 
parasol. 

"I'm  proud  of  that  girl,  Mr.  Wetherill," 
O'Keefe  said  heartily.  "Faith,  she's  the 
apple  of  my  eye.  She  talks  well,  and  you 
should  hear  her  sing." 

"I  should  like  to,"  said  Wetherill,  eagerly. 

"She  '11  sing  at  mass  on  Sunday,  please 
God,"  O'Keefe  said.  "Good-by,  sir;  I  am 
off  to  make  a  deal  in  lumber  over  the 


river." 


From  Friday  until  Sunday  Wetherill  wan 
dered  through  the  streets.  The  surrey,  with 
the  freckled  boy,  was  hitched  before  the 
grocer's  in  Randolph  street  on  Saturday  morn 
ing  ;  but  after  he  had  taken  the  trouble  to  con 
verse  with  the  freckled  boy  about  baseball 
news  for  half  an  hour,  Mrs.  O'Keefe  waddled 

100 


THE  WARNING 

out  of  the  shop,  and  took  no  notice  of  him. 

On  Sunday  Father  Blodgett  was  delighted, 
when  he  ascended  the  pulpit  to  make  a  short 
discourse  on  the  gospel  of  the  day,  by  the  sight 
of  his  nephew  at  the  end  of  a  pew.  This  sight 
gave  an  unusual  fervor  to  his  thoughivind  ex 
pression.  :*  ,V  :  •  :;: 

As  the  congregation  went  out,  Wetherill 
lingered.  In  the  vestibule  he  came  face  to 
face,  as  he  had  hoped,  with  Rosalia,  in  the 
sheerest  white,  which  brought  out  her  splendid 
color  ravishingly. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Wetherill,"  she  exclaimed,  "you 
here!"  Then  she  paused  and  blushed  as  only 
a  brunette  with  blond  hair  and  red  reflections 
in  it  can  blush. 

"I  trust  that  I  am  not  out  of  place/'  he  said 
gravely.  'The  music  was  beautiful,  and  my 
uncle  certainly  looks  the  part." 

"His  sermon  was  perfectly  lovely.  Tears 
almost  came  to  my  eyes."  Wetherill  looked 

101 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

into  them,  and  felt  dizzy.  "There  can  be  no 
love  without  faith;  we  must  believe  to  love;  it 
is  so  true!" 

"You  are  right,  Miss  O'Keefe;  I  was  much 
touched." 

"Oh,. don't  you  think  you  could  believe?"  she 
said  suddenly.  The  vestibule  was  empty  now. 
"Pardon  me,  but  I  was  told  that—" 

Wetherill  laughed. 

"That  I  was  an  atheist,  I  suppose.  It 's  not 
true,"  he  added  warmly.  "  I  am  not  prepared 
to  say  that  anything  is  untrue." 

"How  good  of  you!"  she  said  in  her  low, 
rich  tones,  which  carried  a  touch  of  her 
father's  brogue. 

At  that  moment  Wetherill  felt  more  like  a 
crusader  than  a  doctor  of  philosophy  from  the 
university  in  which  Von  Schleicher  was  the 
shining  star. 

He  took  her  roll  of  music. 
1 02 


THE  WARNING 

"So  you  liked  my  'O  Salutaris'  at  the  offer 
tory?" 

"It  was  divine." 

"I  'm  sorry  that  Isabella  Moldonovo  is  not 
at  home;  she  is  such  a  help.  But  I  should  like 
you  to  assist  me  with  the  German  words 
in  'Violets/  I  know  that  my  pronunciation  is 
not  exactly  Hanoverian,  and  I  'm  to  sing  over 
at  Grayton  for  the  Germans  in  October.  Per 
haps—" 

"May  I  call  to-night?" 

"Yes,"  she  said  shyly.  He  gave  the  roll  of 
music  to  the  other  freckled  brother,  who  was 
waiting,  and  went  in  ecstasy  into  the  rectory. 

"She  's  nabbed  him,"  pronounced  Maginnis, 
as  he  entered  Mrs.  Magee's  dining-room.  "I 
saw  him  coming  out  of  church  with  her." 

"The  bold  creature!"  cried  Herself.  "And 
he  a  ravening  wolf  of  an  infidel.  It 's  Father 
Dudley  will  have  the  sore  heart." 

103 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"And  if  I  had  been  a  banshee  from  the  other 
world/'  said  Maginnis,  "I  could  n't  have  given 
her  unfortunate  parent  a  solemner  warning." 

FATHER  BLODGETT  was  extremely  cheerful  at 
dinner.  Wetherill's  interest  in  religious  mat 
ters  gave  him  much  to  say;  he  could  hardly 
satisfy  his  nephew's  curiosity.  Von  Schlei- 
cher  seemed  to  be  "out,"  as  well  as  Spencer. 
"Of  course,"  Wetherill  said,  over  the  coffee 
• — "of  course  I  am  not  prepared  to  accept  dog 
matic  Christianity  in  any  form ;  but  there  may 
be  forces  at  work  which  science  will  not  be  able 
to  explain  in  eons.  It 's  a  big  proposition  to 
disprove  your  mysteries;  there  may  be  even 
a  fourth  dimension;  and  when  religion  is 
brought  home  to  the  heart — "  Wetherill 
pulled  himself  up,  and,  with  a  blush,  substi 
tuted,  "by  such  a  sermon  as  yours  to-day,  one 
feels  that  there  are  motives — impalpable  nebulae 

104 


THE  WARNING 

— that  the  scalpel  or  the  microscope  cannot 
reach." 

Father  Blodgett  bent  his  head  for  a  moment. 
Ah,  what  a  dear,  clear-minded,  reverent  boy! 
His  cup  of  joy  was  full  when  he  heard  Wether- 
ill,  in  his  room  later,  whistling,  off  the  key,  the 
"O  Salutaris"  of  the  morning. 

Rosalia  O'Keefe  approved  of  Wetherill 
when  he  appeared,  attired  in  black,  in  the  even 
ing;  he  had  compromised  by  donning  what 
used  to  be  called  a  Tuxedo  coat.  Rosalia 
mastered  the  words  of  "Violets"  without  diffi 
culty  under  his  tuition.  She  let  him  play  the 
easy  accompaniment  because  she  knew  her 
hands  were  large.  She  talked  about  her 
father,  the  matchless  one,  a  sigh  from  the  log 
gia  reminding  them  at  long  intervals  that 
there  was  a  mother  somewhere.  She  touched 
on  society,  of  which  she  knew  nothing,  but 
which  she  detested.  Then  he  talked  of  him- 
8  105 


THE  WILES  OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

self,  of  his  research  work,  of  his  aspirations, 
until  the  snores  from  the  loggia  induced  him 
to  realize  that  it  was  nearly  midnight.  Ro 
salia  did  not  ask  him  to  come  again ;  she  merely 
pinned  a  bit  of  scarlet  sage  to  his  lapel. 

At  breakfast  Wetherill  asked  his  uncle  for 
books  dealing  with  the  history  of  Christianity. 
With  trembling  heart  the  priest  gave  him 
Dollinger's  "Jew  an<i  Gentile  World,"  regret 
ting  that  he  had  not  the  German  edition. 

"Miss  O'Keefe  is  a  very  serious  girl;  I  saw 
her  last  night." 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  Father  Blodgett.  "She's 
a  convent  girl,  I  believe;  they  are  never  co 
quettes.  O'Keefe 's  a  good  man,  too.  I  am 
sorry  that  there  are  no  intellectual  people  of 
your  own  class  here." 

Wetherill  raised  his  eyes  in  amazement,  but, 
then,  what  did  his  uncle  know  about  women? 

Miss  O'Keefe  "week-ended,"  as  the  "Star" 
put  it,  at  Grayton,  and  so  Wetherill  did  not 

1 06 


THE  WARNING 

meet  her  until  Tuesday  evening  at  the  Bracton 
brass-band  concert  in  the  new  park.  She 
wore  no  hat,  and  her  hair  was  like  a  "regal 
coronet,"  he  said.  She  was  in  flimsy  white 
as  usual.  At  first  she  did  not  notice  him ;  but 
just  as  the  clarinet  began  Schubert's  "Sere 
nade,"  his  eyes  met  hers,  and  he  knew  that  she 
understood  him.  "Intellectual"?  What  did 
his  uncle  mean?  As  if  a  girl  with  such  eyes 
could  be  unintellectual.  Mrs.  O'Keefe  was 
eluded  by  her  daughter,  who  walked  home  in 
the  moonlight  with  Wetherill. 

Maginnis  managed  to  pass  the  O'Keefes' — 
driven  to  it  by  Herself — about  eleven  o'clock. 
Wetherill  was  taking  his  leave  at  the  gate. 

"No,  no,"  he  heard  Rosalia  say;  "there  can 
be  no  love  without — " 

Maginnis  loitered,  but  he  could  not  catch  the 
next  words;  he  concluded  that  Miss  O'Keefe 
was  making  a  "near"  bargain  for  her  mar 
riage  portion,  and  so  he  told  Herself.  "It  Js 

107 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

a  carriage  and  pair  she  '11  have,  or  no  mar 
riage,"  he  said. 

"There  's  some  that  would  sell  their  souls 
for  lucre/'  said  Herself,  with  appealing 
glances  to  the  ceiling.  "When  I  was  young, 
Magee  married  me,  though  I  had  ten  pounds 
less  than  Maggie  McGraw." 

What  Rosalia  had  really  said  was  that 
"there  could  be  no  love  without  a  spiritual 
basis."  And  then  she  had  quoted,  in  her  melt 
ing  tones,  "There  is  a  Reaper  whose  name  is 
Death,"  which  was  as  effective  as  if  it  had 
been  appropriate. 

Wetherill  said  little;  he  could  have  listened 
to  her  forever.  There  were  some  phenomena 
he  had  not  analyzed  under  Otto-Sommerschein 
or  Von  Schleicher ;  he  knew  that  now.  When 
O'Keefe  came  out  to  look  at  the  thermometer 
fastened  to  the  locust-tree  near  the  gate, 
Wetherill  started  as  if  he  might  be  suspected 
of  having  his  arm  about  Rosalia's  waist. 

1 08 


THE  WARNING 

Father  Blodgett  had  no  reason  to  complain 
of  his  nephew's  interest  in  religious  matters; 
in  fact,  he  went  so  fast  that  the  pastor  had 
surreptitiously  to  brush  up  his  theology.  And 
when  the  priest  went  off  for  his  week's  retreat, 
his  nephew  begged  to  remain  until  he  came 
back. 

"I  say,  uncle,"  he  declared,  as  he  bade  good- 
by  to  his  reverend  relative  at  the  train,  "a  re 
ligion  that  can  produce  such  examples  of  vir 
tue  and  correct  living  does  n't  have  to  be 
examined.  A  man  's  a  fool  who  wants  to  an 
alyze  that  sort  of  thing.  You  don't  look  at 
the  roots  of  a  big  oak." 

His  uncle  was  somewhat  disturbed  by  his 
enthusiasm.  Wetherill  waited  till  the  down 
train  brought  in  a  large  box  of  roses  for  him. 
Father  Blodgett,  if  he  had  seen  this,  would 
have  been  alarmed ;  but  he  went  away,  at  peace 
with  all  the  world,  and  with  simple  joy  in  his 
heart. 

109 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

Father  Dudley  missed  the  next  visit  of 
Maginnis;  for  the  retreat  intervened,  and  on 
his  return  he  was  so  busy  that  he  forgot  all 
about  Guy  Wetherill. 

Two  weeks  after  the  retreat,  the  bishop  at 
breakfast  opened  a  letter  marked  "Personal." 

"Ah-a!"  he  said  to  his  secretary  who  was 
opposite  to  him,  as  usual.  "One  of  your 
friends  at  Bracton  writes  to  me — Miss  Rosa 
lia  O'Keefe.  She  wants  to  be  married  by  a 
bishop;  thinks  it  will  be  more  'educational'  to 
the  groom's  Protestant  relatives.  And  here 
is  an  inclosure  from  the  happy  groom — quite 
long." 

"Maginnis,  a  worthy  man,  warned  her 
people,  he  tells  me,"  broke  in  Father  Dudley, 
aghast.  "I  hope  there  '11  be  no  remorse ; 
they  've  been  warned." 

"Warned?  Why,  Mr.  Wetherill's  lan 
guage  is  most  edifying.  He  is  of  the  faithful ; 
he  seems  to  be  most  devout.  He  says  that  if 

no 


THE  WARNING 

more  scientific  men  would  embrace  Christianity 
in  its  most  convincing  form,  the  case  of  Gali 
leo  could  not  be  repeated,  and  science  would  be 
more  truly  scientific  in  its  aspirations." 

"The  Lord  deliver  us!"  cried  Father  Dud 
ley.  Then  he  said  to  himself,  "There  will  be 
no  standing  those  O'Keefes  now !" 

"At  last,"  said  the  bishop,  taking  off  his 
glasses,  "religion  and  science  are  indissoluble. 
Your  occupation  is  gone." 

"Bishop,"  said  Father  Dudley,  "a  joke  on 
such  a  serious — " 

The  bishop  looked  up  as  one  utterly  shocked, 
and  Father  Dudley  was  rebuked. 

"I  shall  not  be  able  to  solemnize  the  mar 
riage,"  said  the  bishop,  breaking  the  silence; 
"but  I  shall  invite  them  to  come  here  for  a 
visit.  It  will  be  an  auspicious  occasion." 

On  the  day  after  the  announcement  of  the 
engagement  of  Guy  Wetherill  and  Rosalia 
O'Keefe  the  cheerful  pair  called  on  Father 

in 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

Blodgett.  He  felt  that  he  ought  to  be  happy ; 
but,  even  as  he  blessed  them,  the  thought 
crossed  his  mind  that  Rosalia  might  one  day 
look  like  her  mother. 

"Well,  well,  my  dear,"  he  said,  with  a  slight 
sigh,  "take  good  care  of  him, — he  's  an  orphan, 
— and  I  trust,  my  child,  you  '11  encourage  his 
scientific  aspirations." 

"I  '11  try  to  make  him  an  all-around  politi 
cian,  like  father/'  Rosalia  said  firmly. 

Father  Blodgett  shivered. 


112 


IV 

THE    REIGN    OF    SENTIMENT 

THE  bishop  looked  at  the  heap  of  opened 
letters  near  the  plate  of  his  secretary 
and     remarked     that     coffee     might 
freeze  in  a  dining-room  without  a  fire  even  in 
early   autumn    weather.     His    secretary    was 
about  to  say  this  was  an  exaggeration,  but  he 
merely  opened  his  last  letter  with  one  of  the 
steel  table-knives,  and  read  it  carefully. 

"I  can  never  eat,  bishop/'  he  said,  "with 
much  on  my  mind." 

"It  is  different  with  me,"  answered  the 
bishop,  gravely:  "I  can  never  eat  with  much 
in  my  stomach." 

Father  Dudley  ignored  this.  It  was  frivo 
lous. 

113 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"Ah-a!"  he  murmured,  "Mrs.  Westbro— 
Edith — Baumgarten — ah-a !" 

The  Bishop,  looking  at  him,  smiled;  and,  as 
the  bishop  smiled,  his  eyes  caught  a  mellow 
light  such  as  one  sees  when  the  sunshine  illu 
minates  a  great  brown  grape. 

"By  the  way,"  he  said,  "the  'Star'  gives  a 
long  account  of  a  theatrical  performance  at 
Bracton  last  evening." 

"Oh,  yes,"  answered  Father  Dudley,  feel 
ing  that  he  was  on  the  defensive;  "just  a  trifle 
of  a  play  acted  by  the  young  people  in  the  new 
parish  hall.  I  went  over  to  make  the  opening 
address.  After  the  preaching  of  the  mission, 
which  lasted  a  week,  the  people  needed  a  bit 
of  relaxation,  and,  with  the  whole  place  in  a 
state  of  grace  and  everybody  afraid  of  hell, 
there  could  be  no  harm  in  a  little  amusement. 
Maginnis  was  the  chief  usher,  and  a  more 
polished  manner  in  a  poor  man  I  never 


saw." 


114 


THE  REIGN  OF  SENTIMENT 

The  bishop  shook  his  head. 

"The  theater/'  he  began  doubtfully,  "I  al 
most  fear — " 

"'T  was  a  classical  play,"  said  Father  Dud 
ley,  with  impatience,  "and  never  an  objection 
able  word  against  faith  or  morals  in  it. 
T  was  The  Lady  of  Lyons/  and  little  Ellen 
Reilly,  whose  father  is  one  of  the  honestest 
Kerry  boys  living,  made  a  pretty  picture,  I 
can  tell  you.  Faith,  the  play  's  all  innocent 
sentiment  from  beginning  to  end.  Is  it  put 
ting  young  people  in  cages,  like  black  Puritans, 
you'd  be?" 

The  bishop's  eyes  twinkled. 

"Well,  well,"  he  said,  "you  know  more 
about  these  things  than  I  do.  I  have  no  time 
for  light  literature." 

Father  Dudley  raised  his  head  quickly;  the 
bishop's  air  was  so  dovelike  that  he  felt  it  was 
time  to  come  to  the  point. 

"Oh,  by  the  way,"  he  said  carelessly,  "I  've 


THE  WILES  OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

a  letter  from  Mrs.  Westbro.  She  writes  that 
her  niece — " 

"Which  niece?"  asked  the  bishop. 

"Edith  Evelyn.  Well,  Edith  wants  to 
marry — or,  at  least,  her  aunt  thinks  so — young 
Lieutenant  Curtice,  and  she  begs  me  to  ask 
you  to  use  your  influence  to  bring  Edith  to 
common  sense.  Martin  Baumgarten  is  much 
interested  in  her." 

"What,  that  middle-aged  brewer?" 

"A  prosperous  man,"  answered  Father 
Dudley,  nailing  the  bishop  with  his  eyes,  "and 
he  attends  to  his  religious  duties  scrupu 
lously." 

"But,"  said  the  bishop,  putting  his  napkin 
into  its  ring,  "he  weighs  more  than  you  and  I 
together,  and  he  is  over  fifty.  No,  I  will  not 
bring  little  Edith  to  common  sense  and — 
Baumgarten.  Besides,  I  don't  believe  in 
match-making.  Why  are  priests  and  nuns 
such  match-makers  ?  There  's  Mother  Gon- 

116 


I 


THE  REIGN  OF  SENTIMENT 

zaga  at  the  convent;  she's  ninety,  but  she'll 
move  heaven  to  assist  a  marriage  at  any  time. 
Even  St.  Teresa  liked  that  sort  of  manage 
ment.  I  must  say  I  am  surprised  that  you 
should  be  so  sentimental." 

"Sentimental !"  repeated  Father  Dudley, 
reddening.  "Is  it  because  I  want  to  save  a 
young  girl  from  a  matrimonial  union  with  a 
penniless  minion  of  a  political  party  which  has 
done  its  best  to  undermine  the  faith  and  morals 
of  the  Filipinos?" 

The  bishop  hid  his  mouth  with  his  hand. 

"If,"  he  said  in  a  severe  voice,  "I  can  be 
convinced  that  Willie  Curtice  really  intends 
to  undermine  the  faith  and  morals  of  the 
Sultan  of  Zulu,  I — "  but  he  paused  in  the  face 
of  a  lengthy  political  discussion.  "The  rich 
Baumgarten  will  have  to  brew  his  own  beer. 
Tell  Mrs.  Westbro  so;  and  give  my  compli 
ments  to  Edith." 

The  bishop  rose,  and  his  secretary  saw  him 
119 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

leave  the  room  before  he  could  find  words  to 
reply.  What  prudent  man  could  doubt  the 
future  happiness  of  Edith  Evelyn  united  to 
the  worthy  Martin  Baumgarten,  whose  filial 
devotion  was  crystallized  in  the  shape  of  two 
Munich  windows  in  the  Lady  chapel  dedicated 
to  the  memory  of  Conrad  and  Kunigunde 
Baumgarten?  Father  Dudley  gathered  up 
his  letters,  and  went  to  his  room  to  begin  the 
reading  of  his  breviary. 

Edith  Evelyn  was  an  orphan  heiress,  the 
only  daughter  of  Campbell  Evelyn,  of  Evelyn, 
Bond  &  Co.,  in  morocco  leather,  Baltimore  and 
Calcutta.  The  name  is  enough,  if  you  know 
Bradstreet.  Edith  had  recently  come  back 
from  a  three  years'  stay  at  a  convent  called  Les 
Oiseaux  in  Paris.  Mrs.  Westbro,  her  mater 
nal  aunt,  who  came  of  so  great  a  family,  with 
so  many  "signers"  in  it,  that  at  colonial  balls 
she  had  to  do  several  lightning-change  acts 

1 20 


THE  REIGN  OF  SENTIMENT 

to  appear  in  the  costumes  of  all  her  ances 
tresses,  and  been  so  poor  since  the  war  that 
she  considered  Edith's  long  Maryland  pedi 
gree  as  of  small  consequence  compared  with 
the  union  of  millions  with  millions.  Willie 
Curtice  was  also  very  great,  from  the  ancestral 
point  of  view,  several  of  his  forebears  being 
actually  mentioned  by  Horace  Walpole  and 
Lady  Sarah  Lennox  as  having  ruined  them 
selves,  before  their  emigration,  at  White's; 
but  he  had  no  income  except  his  pay  as  a 
first  lieutenant  in  the  army  of  the  United 
States. 

When  Father  Dudley  had  read  the  neces 
sary  part  of  his  office  and  carefully  marked  the 
place  with  a  card  announcing  a  coming  con 
cert  of  the  Kerry  Men's  Association,  he  took 
up  Mrs.  Westbro's  letter  again. 

It  was  written  in  a  fine  Italian  hand  and  ran 
thus: 

121 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

As  Edith  persists  in  her  foolish  refusal  to 
think  over  the  proposal  of  Mr.  Baumgarten, — 
by  the  way,  I  believe  that  he  is  really  entitled 
to  write  von  before  his  name,  his  parents  when 
they  came  to  this  country  having,  with  strange 
modesty,  dropped  the  particle, — I  have  sent 
her  to  Miss  White  at  the  Lodge,  for,  though 
we  of  the  younger  branch  cannot  boast  of 
country  houses  at  Lakewood  and  Newport, 
like  the  elder  branch,  which  has  never  hesi 
tated  to  enter  into  the  vulgar  Yankee  scramble 
for  money,  we  have  one  little  manor,  at  least, 
left.  You  know  the  lodge  and  you  know  Miss 
White.  A  sojourn  among  the  mountains  in 
the  lonely  fall — I  have  always  hated  the  Lodge 
in  the  fall — will  bring  Edith  to  her  senses. 
She  will  see,  too,  Mr.  Curtice's  horrible  little 
estate  of  Brierly,  or  as  we  originally  call  it, 
the  Curtice  place,  his  only  patrimony,  though 
no  doubt,  under  Yankee  rule  in  the  Philip 
pines  he  will  be  enabled  to  increase  his  posses 
sions  at  the  expense  of  the  assimilated  natives. 
A  vastly  fine  home  it  is  to  bring  a  well-bred 
girl  to.  The  pride  of  those  Curtices!  His 
father  used  to  talk  as  if  he  were  a  Virginian 
or  a  North  Carolinian,  and  you  know  how  they 
boast,  as  if  they  really  did  much  for  the  Con- 

122 


THE  REIGN  OF  SENTIMENT 

f ederacy,  after  all !  As  to  Edith,  she — I  really 
cannot  deny — it  is  a  problem — she  is  what 
they  call  a  modern  girl,  I  suppose.  Old  Judge 
Waldegrave  stopped  in  the  other  day  for  a  cup 
of  tea,  and  I  was  just  telling  him  that,  after 
all,  sweetness  and  gentleness  and  female  tact 
were  to  be  found  only  in  our  part  of  the  South, 
where  poverty — which  we  have  all  known 
since  the  war — softened  the  natural  haughti 
ness  of  culture  and  blood,  when  he  asked 
which  school  she  had  attended.  "I  'm  a 
Bird,"  she  answered,  with  an  indescribable  ac 
cent  on  the  phrase,  which  is  a  shocking  pun 
on  the  name  of  her  convent,  "Les  Oiseaux." 
It  was  almost  a  sacrilege;  I  prevented  the 
judge  from  showing  his  amazement  by  insist 
ing  on  a  few  extra  drops  of  Santa  Cruz  in  his 
tea.  Married  to  that  Curtice,  she  would  be  in 
the  frivolous  circles  of  the  federal  army, — 
where,  I  hear,  some  of  the  women  smoke, — 
encouraged  in  these  modern  ways.  Do  per 
suade  the  dear  bishop  to  help  us.  With  all 
her  faults,  Edith  has  a  genuine  respect  for  him. 

Father  Dudley  admired  himself  as  one  who 
was   not  the   little  brother   of  the   rich   and 
9  123 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

fashionable.  He  sniffed  at  the  violet  perfume 
of  the  letter  with  disapprobation.  He  looked 
on  Mrs.  Westbro  as  an  aged  and  glittering 
social  butterfly,  valuable  principally  as  a  pa 
troness  for  church  fairs  and  other  functions 
when  the  evil  disposition  of  mankind  made  an 
appeal  to  the  worldly  necessary.  As  far  apart 
as  the  poles  on  most  subjects,  he  and  she  were 
united  in  politics :  she  saw  the  hand  of  the  devil 
in  every  movement  of  the  government  in  the 
Philippines.  On  other  questions  he  held  that 
she  was  a  trifler;  but  his  interest  in  Martin 
Baumgarten  forced  him  to  weigh  every  line 
of  her  letter. 

"Nefarious!"  he  said,  taking  a  pinch  of 
snuff,  and  then  dusting  his  cassock  with  a 
bandana  handkerchief.  "Nefarious !"  And  he 
meant  Willie  Curtice  and  the  government. 

No  Marylander  could  have  been  more  in 
love  than  Willie  Curtice,  and  the  Marylanders 
have  a  talent  for  love  second  only  to  the  Vir- 

124 


THE  REIGN  OF  SENTIMENT 

ginians.  He  knew  that  he  was  not  specially 
clever,  but  he  thought  that  Edith  did  not  really 
care  for  clever  persons,  and  it  consoled  him. 
He  was  a  year  older  than  Edith;  brown,  with 
an  air  of  well-balanced  strength,  both  mental 
and  physical;  a  man  who  seemed  to  have  all 
those  interesting  capabilities  that  help  in  the 
learning  of  the  soldier's  trade.  Edith  was 
neither  blonde  nor  brown,  and  she  was  not  so 
tall  and  slender  as  the  other  women  of  her 
family — and  for  this  Mrs.  Westbro  blamed  a 
Yankee  grandmother;  she  was  graceful,  alert, 
and  her  violet  eyes,  heavily  lashed,  enraptured 
the  susceptible  and  caused  the  dispassionate  to 
regard  her  as  a  girl  who  could  appreciate 
them. 

For  two  long  weeks  Mrs.  Westbro  had  not 
permitted  Curtice  to  speak  a  word  to  Edith. 
He  had  followed  her  into  a  street-car,  and  hung 
by  a  strap  near  her;  but  her  aunt  had  the  op 
posite  seat.  He  had  sauntered  into  the  library 

125 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

where  Mrs.  Westbro  sometimes  read,  and  one 
day,  while  she  was  deep  in  a  volume  of 
"Godey's  Lady's  Book"  for  1852,  he  had  begun 
to  pour  out  his  soul  to  Edith;  but  the  learned 
attendant  said,  "Silentium !"  in  a  hollow  tone, 
and  the  aunt,  raising  her  lorgnette  just  at  the 
wrong  time,  had  taken  the  adored  one  off  with 
her. 

It  was  now  the  loth  of  the  month,  and  he 
must  sail  from  San  Francisco  on  the  26th. 
Baumgarten  was  clever ;  he  had  made  so  much 
money,  she  might  learn  to  doubt  the  only  heart 
that  could  ever  love  her,  and  accept  Baumgar 
ten.  But  that  was  impossible,  for  Baumgar 
ten  was  fat  and  bald,  Baumgarten  could  not 
dance;  and  yet,  what  if,  deeming  him — Willie 
used  the  word  "deeming"  in  his  thoughts  for 
the  first  time — irresponsive,  she  should  take 
Baumgarten!  Oh  for  a  word  with  her!  If 
he  could  only  get  her  assurance  that  she  would 
wait  a  little  while,  or,  best  of  all,  if  he  could 

126 


THE  REIGN  OF  SENTIMENT 

only  induce  her  to  go  off  with  him  to  the  Phil 
ippines!  Other  ladies  were  going  with  their 
husbands  by  the  transport.  He  knew  that 
Edith  was  of  age  and  her  own  mistress;  Mrs. 
Westbro,  who  was  strewing  the  path  of  the 
ponderous  Baumgarten  with  roses,  was  only 
her  aunt.  Hours  seemed  days ;  his  fever  grew. 
Chaucer's  young  squire — he  of  the  love-locks 
— was  more  master  of  his  heart  than  this  lieu 
tenant.  When  he  heard — many  tips  to  a  sym 
pathetic  butler  were  the  price  of  knowledge — 
that  Edith  had  gone  to  the  Lodge  in  the  moun 
tains,  near  his  own  little  place,  Brierly,  he  was 
almost  equally  divided  between  hope  and  de 
spair.  His  symptoms  were  the  usual  ones  ap 
propriate  to  the  occasion,  but  they  were  made 
more  piquant  by  the  knowledge  that  Miss 
Charlotte  White,  who  lived  at  the  Lodge,  was 
a  dragon.  She  had  been  governess  to  gener 
ations  of  Westbros  and  Evelyns,  and  had 
earned  a  nimbus  and  an  aureole,  together  with 

127 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

free  food  and  lodging  for  life,  by  the  strictness 
of  her  principles  and  her  devotion  to  the  mem 
ory  of  the  Calvert  families  and  the  Lost  Cause. 
She  spoke  with  measured  doubt  of  the  preten 
sions  of  Virginia  as  a  State  of  heroes,  as  she 
was  a  North  Carolinian  by  nature.  By  way 
of  protest  against  all  governments  not  found 
ed  on  the  principles  of  romance,  she  had  joined 
the  White  Rose  Society.  She  often  spoke  of 
the  Young  Pretender  as  if  he  lived  down  the 
road.  Mrs.  Westbro  kept  away  from  Miss 
White,  because  their  opinions  were  as  much 
alike  as  their  temperaments  were  unlike.  Miss 
White's  favorite  dependent  was  Maginnis, 
whose  mother-in-law  was  intrusted  with  the 
"doing  up"  of  certain  precious  articles.  Ma 
ginnis,  who  stepped  in  to  make  a  respectful 
call  occasionally  on  the  way  from  Bracton,  was 
not  only  a  good  listener,  but  he  was  the  first 
man  who  had  told  Miss  White  that  she  pos 
sessed  both  beauty  and  the  art  of  brilliant  con- 

128 


THE  REIGN  OF  SENTIMENT 

versation.  He  did  this  with  many  apologies 
and  an  artless  hesitation  which  gave  her  a  high 
opinion  of  his  truthfulness. 

The  Lodge  was  a  square  house,  with  a  dozen 
columns  in  front,  built,  Miss  White  said,  after 
a  plan  suggested  by  the  Count  de  Beaujolais  to 
Great-grandfather  Evelyn.  It  was  supposed 
to  be  after  the  manner  of  Louis  Seize ;  at  pres 
ent  it  was  very  well  painted.  A  mile  and  a 
half  away,  by  a  mountainous  road,  was  Willie 
Curtice's  place,  Brierly.  It,  like  the  Lodge, 
was  surrounded  by  clumps  of  great  oaks,  and, 
like  the  Lodge,  it  was  approached  by  one  of 
the  stoniest  and  most  uneven  lanes  that  ever 
vexed  the  temper  of  a  coachman.  It  was  in 
the  center  of  about  thirty  acres  of  neglected 
fields  and  orchards.  The  galleries  sagged  un 
der  the  shadowed  damp  of  many  seasons  and 
the  weight  of  untrammeled  vines.  Willie  Cur 
tice's  father  had  no  money  for  fresh  paint. 
After  Willie  went  to  West  Point  he  nursed 

129 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

the  wound  received  at  Bull  Run,  and  read  the 
eighteenth-century  essayists  and  his  son's  let 
ters,  until  he  died.  The  place  had  been 
"worked  on  shares,"  but  there  never  seemed  to 
be  more  than  one  share. 

FATHER  DUDLEY  was  so  busy  during  the  days 
following  his  conversation  with  the  bishop  that 
it  was  not  until  after  he  had  arranged  his  five- 
minute  sermon  for  the  next  Sunday  that  the 
importance  of  Martin  Baumgarten  was  again 
forced  on  his  mind. 

"Dear  me!"  he  said,  chuckling,  "I  believe 
the  bishop  's  half  right,  I  Ve  a  real  sentimental 
spot  in  me  somewhere.  Sure,  we  Ve  got  to 
take  the  world  as  we  find  it,  and,  admitting  that 
the  female  sex  is  what  it  is,  I  believe  that  all 
Martin  Baumgarten  needs  is  a  touch  of  ro 
mance.  He  's  a  fine  figure  of  a  man,  and  all 
young  Curtice  has  is  the  sentiment.  Thank 
Heaven,  the  only  novel  I  Ve  ever  read  is  Carle- 

130 


THE  REIGN  OF  SENTIMENT 

ton's  'Willy  Reilly,'  which  has  no  offence  to 
pious  ears  in  it;  but  if  I  were  Martin,  in  this 
degenerate  age  when  every  colleen  is  wasting 
her  time  on  fictitious  recitals,  I  'd  see  that  she  'd 
find  as  much  sentiment  as  would  be  edifying 
about  myself.  Dear,  dear!  how  the  bishop 
would  laugh  if  he  knew  the  sentiment  that 's 
really  in  me !" 

On  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  Father  Dud 
ley  wrote,  all  in  the  glow  of  romance,  to  Mar 
tin  Baumgarten.  As  it  happened,  Baumgar- 
ten  was  not  in  Baltimore,  but  at  Lakewood,  so 
the  letter,  received  by  his  chief  bookkeeper, 
was  kept  for  two  weeks,  Baumgarten  having 
ordered  that  only  important  business  commu 
nications  should  be  forwarded  to  him.  The 
letter  said: 

Mrs.  Westbro's  niece  will  be  at  the  Lodge 
for  a  week  or  two,  and  you  can  run  down  on 
Sunday  in  your  automobile.  There  is  nothing, 
except  a  murdering  soldier's  uniform,  that 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

strikes  the  female  fancy  like  an  automobile. 
Mind  that,  Martin !  It 's  the  romance  of  your 
sudden  appearance  in  that  lonely  place,  where 
you  've  had  no  rivals  for  a  fortnight  other  than 
the  Young  Pretender  and  Stonewall  Jackson, 
that  will  do  the  job.  There  is  nothing  that  will 
make  the  sentimental  female  turn  to  a  live 
man  so  much  as  a  sojourn  with  dead  ones, 
no  matter  how  illustrious  the  corpses  are. 
Don't  waste  words — as  Horatius  Flaccus 
says: 

"Simplici  myrto  nihil  allabores 
Sedulis  euro." 

Miss  White's  principles  are  with  you;  but,  re 
member,  only  the  automobile — no  other  sign 
of  luxury! 

It  happened  that,  as  the  astute  secretary  was 
thinking  of  Maginnis  as  a  possible  acolyte  at 
the  shrine  of  sentiment,  a  knock  sounded  at  the 
door;  and  Maginnis,  having  been  told  three 
times  to  enter,  came  just  beyond  the  thresh 
old. 

"I  thought  I  'd  give  you  time  to  put  on  your 
132 


THE  REIGN  OF  SENTIMENT 

Roman  collar,  father,"  said  Maginnis,  as  one 
who  knew  the  ways  of  the  clergy.  "I  came 
over  to  vespers,  and  to  see  if  I  could  be  in  the 
way  of  servin'  your  reverence." 

Father  Dudley  saw  with  satisfaction  that 
Maginnis's  broadcloth  frock-coat  was  neatly 
brushed  and  that  he  wore  a  pink  carnation  in 
his  buttonhole.  He  held  his  ancient  tall  hat 
in  a  manner  which  symbolized  both  duty  and 
pleasure. 

"How  are  they  all  at  home?"  asked  Father 
Dudley,  in  a  tone  in  which  dignity  and  sym 
pathy  were  judiciously  mingled. 

"They  're  two  pounds  heavier  than  any  chil- 
der  in  Bracton,"  said  Maginnis,  eagerly,  "and 
I  'm  countin'  the  O'Keefe  twins,  too,  though 
they  're  a  year  and  a  half  older.  We  're  all 
well,  barrin'  Herself." 

"Dear  me!  Sit  down,  my  good  man. 
What's  the  matter?" 

Maginnis's  face  became  woeful.     "Herself  's 

133 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

the  finest  washerwoman  in  Bracton;  but,  fa 
ther,  religion  has  done  its  worst  for  her,  and 
me  and  Mary  Ann  have  n't  the  life  of  Chris 
tians  with  her  goings-on/' 

"Is  it  blasphemy  you're  at?"  asked  Father 
Dudley,  in  amazement. 

"Beggin'  your  reverence's  pardon,  't  was  the 
mission  that  did  it.  The  Redemptioner  fathers 
preached  in  the  church  twice  a  day  for  a  week; 
since  they  left,  Bracton  's  been  as  dhry  as  a 
stick  fit  for  the  firin'.  There  is  n't  a  shebeen- 
house  open — except  the  wine-shop  for  the  Da 
gos,  who  look  on  drinkin'  as  the  breath  of  life 
— where  a  decent  man  would  be  seen  takin'  a 
drop  too  much.  The  sermon  on  hell  was  the 
most  elegant  thing  I  've  heard  since  I  listened 
to  you,  sir — you  could  hear  your  hair  frizzle — 
but,  instead  of  f eelin'  the  effect  of  it  for  a  week 
or  two,  Herself  has  kept  it  up,  and  it 's  a  real 
tombstone  she  is  in  the  house.  And,  worst  of 
all,  your  reverence,  she  wants  to  change  the 

134 


A  manner  which  symbolized  both  duty  and  pleasure 


THE  REIGN  OF  SENTIMENT 

names  of  the  twins  from  Finn  and  Finola — 
she  says  they  're  heathen  names — to  Alphon- 
sus  and  Philomena!"  Maginnis  made  a  noise 
in  his  throat,  to  intimate  the  degradation  which 
this  statement  involved.  "And  for  cheerful 
ness,  there  's  as  little  about  the  place  as  if  the 
curse  of  Cromwell  was  on  us." 

"Indeed?"  said  Father  Dudley.  There  was 
a  pause,  during  which  Maginnis's  eyes  were 
turned  anxiously  toward  the  only  man  who,  he 
believed,  could  help  him  out  of  this  gloomy  spot 
in  life.  "Your  mother-in-law  is  a  valiant  wo 
man,  but  no  doubt  she  aims  too  immoder 
ately  at  perfection.  By  the  way,  Maginnis,  if 
you  should  be  required  to  be  of  service  to  a 
former  parishioner  of  mine,  who  is  paying  at 
tentions,  with  a  view  to  matrimony,  to  a  young 
lady  visiting  the  Lodge,  do  so.  I  will  give 
him  your  address.  He  may  need  an  honest 
man.  Bracton  's  only  three  miles  from  the 
Lodge,  you  know." 

137 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"Thanks,  your  reverence,"  said  Maginnis, 
pocketing  the  usual  dollar.  There  was  a  shade 
on  his  face.  He  hesitated  as  he  stood  up.  "If 
you  would  n't  mind,"  he  said  at  last,  "I  wish 
you  'd  lighten  up  hell  a  little  for  Herself.  The 
fear  of  it  is  ruinin'  her  entirely ;  and  it 's  not 
only  for  her  own  soul  she  's  afeared,  but  for 
mine  and  Mary  Ann's  and  the  childer.  She 
was  almost  for  sprinklin'  me  with  holy  wather 
because  I  went  the  other  night  to  the  little 
piece  of  play-actin'  in  the  hall  beyant.  'If  the 
clargy  take  to  play-actinV  says  she,  observin' 
you  there,  'the  church  will  suffer  more  nor  it 
has  suffered  since  the  death  of  Charles  Stew 
art  Parnell.'  " 

Father  Dudley  frowned. 

"You  have  a  certain  intuition  of  right  on 
your  side,  Maginnis ;  the  preaching  of  some  of 
us  is,  I  fear,  at  times  tinctured  with  rigorism, 
and  the  effect  on  the  delicate  female  mind, 
which  has  not  been  trained  to  distinguish,  is 

138 


THE  REIGN  OF  SENTIMENT 

to  produce  scruples  of  conscience.  I  '11  think 
the  matter  over,  Maginnis." 

Maginnis,  very  red  under  the  sandy  stubble 
which  even  the  Sunday's  shave  could  not  en 
tirely  destroy,  held  the  door  open,  to  make  an 
other  appeal. 

"I  Ve  been  forced  to  threaten  Herself,"  he 
said  in  a  low  and  awful  voice.  "I  Ve  been 
driven  to  the  extremity  of  sayin'  I  'd  take  away 
the  childer,  especially  the  twins,  and  of  pre- 
sumin'  I  Ve  a  place  to  go." 

"Don't — exaggerate,  Maginnis,"  said  Fa 
ther  Dudley,  severely.  "You  will  not  be 
obliged  to  leave  your  house ;  we  shall  see  what 
can  be  done." 

And  Maginnis  went  away,  disconsolate. 

WILLIE  CURTICE  had  rushed  down  to  Brierly 
as  soon  as  he  discovered  from  Mrs.  Westbro's 
butler  that  Edith  Evelyn  had  gone  to  the 
Lodge;  and  on  the  old  pike  road,  which  runs 

139 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

past  both  the  Lodge  and  Brierly,  Maginnis  saw 
him  standing  among  the  wild  asters,  early  on 
one  of  the  crispest  Thursdays  of  the  month  of 
October.  He  stood  at  the  end  of  Brierly  Lane, 
his  kit-bag  in  his  hand,  looking  helplessly  up 
and  down  the  road. 

Maginnis  was  sad  as  he  sauntered  homeward 
with  his  empty  basket,  having  delivered  some 
of  Mrs.  Magee's  laundry  work  at  the  Lodge. 
He  had  tried  to  read  a  much-thumbed  copy  of 
"The  Lady  of  Lyons,"  but  his  attention  was 
distracted,  and  his  eyes  were  lusterless. 

"Pagan  names!"  he  muttered.  "Pagan 
names!  And  Herself  dared  to  say  it!  With 
Finn  and  Finola  Christian  names  in  Ireland 
long  before  St.  Patrick  discovered  the  distress 
ful  country !" 

His  groans  were  checked  by  the  sight  of  the 
anxious  Curtice. 

"Tis  Father  Dudley's  young  man,"  he 
thought;  "and  it 's  a  fine  presence  he  has." 

140 


THE  REIGN  OF  SENTIMENT 

"Ho,  I  say!"  Curtice  called  out,  "I  find  that 
the  boy  who  took  care  of  this  place  has  left 
without  giving  me  warning.  I  reckon  that 
you  might  come  in  and  give  me  a  hand  if 
you  're  not  in  a  hurry.  I  Ve  just  come  from 
the  train,  and  I  want  shaving-water  and  other 
things." 

"Is  it  to  the  Lodge  you  're  goin'  ?" 

Maginnis  allowed  one  of  his  eyebrows  to 
drop.  Curtice  looked  at  him  keenly;  but  Ma- 
ginnis's  eyes  disarmed  him. 

"Faith,  I  know  all  about  it,"  said  Maginnis, 
with  unction,  "and  I  'm  your  man  with  a  heart 
and  a  half.  I  '11  fix  you  up  so  that  the  lady  be- 
yant  will  think  you  're  Claude  Melnotty  him 
self  ;  and,  by  the  same  token,  I  've  been  valet 
to  the  most  particular  gentleman  hereabouts; 
and  whisper,  if  you  should  want  a  marriage 
license,  I  'm  the  wan  that  can  get  it  for 
you." 

Again  the  right  eye  of  Maginnis  drooped; 
141 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

again  Curtice  frowned,  and  again  was  dis 
armed. 


"HE  went  away,"  said  Maginnis,  later,  "like  a 
flower  o'  the  May,  and  he  came  back  like  a 
weepin'-willow.  It  did  me  good  to  see  him 
go  off  whistlin'  a  chime,  for  all  the  world  as 
if  there  wasn't  a  sorrow  in  life;  but  it  didn't 
last." 

Mary  Ann  sighed;  she  took  "The  Lady  of 
Lyons"  from  beneath  the  brilliant  patchwork 
quilt  under  which,  in  a  double  cradle,  Finn  and 
Finola  reposed. 

"Is  Herself  comin'?"  she  asked  abruptly, 
throwing  the  paper-covered  play-book  under 
her  chair. 

"No,  't  was  the  wind,"  answered  Maginnis, 
after  a  pause.  He  resumed  the  play  and  care 
fully  marked  a  place.  "I  opened  the  old  house 
for  the  lad,  as  his  reverence  would  have  had 
me  do,  and  I  got  hot  wather  for  his  shavin' 

142 


I  'm  the  wan  that  can  get  it  for  you" 


THE  REIGN  OF  SENTIMENT 

and  his  bath.  He  made  quick  work,  but  the 
room  was  like  an  earthquake  with  collars  and 
neckties — he  was  afther  tryin'  them  all  on — 
and  he  came  down  as  rosy  as  the  twins  afther 
their  dip  in  brown  soap  and  wather.  There 
was  a  look  in  his  eyes — " 

"Twas  the  sentiment  that  did  it,"  sighed 
Mary  Ann.  "Do  you  remember  the  play 
where  Claude  Melnotte  goes  away  to  the 
war?" 

"I  mind  it  well,"  said  Maginnis.  "And  it 's 
sintiment  that  makes  me  stand  up  for  the  names 
of  my  own  childer  against  Herself ;  for,  Mary 
Ann,  what 's  the  differ  between  us  and  the  Da 
gos?  T  is  sintiment." 

"And  education,"  said  Mary  Ann. 

"And  edication,"  said  Maginnis.  "Is  she 
comin'  ?"  he  asked  anxiously. 

Mary  Ann  hastily  threw  her  apron  over  the 
obnoxious  drama.  The  twins  turned  as  one 

145 


THE  WILES  OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

child,  and  Mary  Ann  moved  the  lamp  farther 
from  them. 

"It 's  no  life  at  all ;  she  has  locked  up  the  few 
drops  of  poteen  sent  me  by  my  own  cousin  the 
last  time  he  sent  the  shamrock,  and  she  won't 
let  me  whistle  to  the  childer  o'  Sundays;  as  to 
the  novel-readin',  she  's  no  better  than  an  Ul 
ster  Orangeman." 

"It 's  a  home  of  our  own  we  need,  Maginnis," 
said  Mary  Ann,  with  a  sigh;  "I  could  have 
stood  anything  but  her  changing  the  names  of 
my  own  children,  though  she  's  been  a  good 
mother  to  me." 

"Pagan  names!"  Maginnis  breathed  fierce 
ly.  "Sure,  they  were  ours  long  before  the 
curse  o'  Cromwell  came.  'T  is  a  home  of  our 
own  we  '11  have,  Mary  Ann."  He  added  with 
portentous  gravity :  "I  Ve  a  bit  of  letther  in 
my  pocket,  for  it  has  been  a  hard  and  joyful 
day.  I  Ve  pleased  his  reverence,  and  I  Ve  had 
my  reward.  A  home  we  '11  have  before  this 

146 


THE  REIGN  OF  SENTIMENT 

day  week,  Mary  Ann."  He  thrust  his  hand 
through  his  bristling  hair,  and  seized  the  book 
of  the  play. 

"Is  it  mad  you  are,  Maginnis  ?"  asked  Mary 
Ann,  looking  at  his  open  mouth  with  astonish 
ment. 

He  wrinkled  his  forehead,  and  read  in  a 
hoarse  whisper,  the  play-book  half  concealed 
under  the  quilt: 

"  'Nay,  dearest,  nay,  if — thou  wouldst  have 
me  paint — the  home  to  which,  could — love  ful 
fill  its  intercessions — this  hand  would  lead 
thee,  listen:  a  deep  vale  shut  out  by  Alpean 
hills—'  " 

"You  're  all  sentiment,  Maginnis,"  said 
Mary  Ann. 

"Sure,  I  am,"  said  Maginnis,  reading  with 
difficulty.  "  'A  gra-nd  castle,  liftin'  to  eternal 
— summers  its  marble  walls — from  out — a 
glossy  bower — ' ' 

The  door  opened  suddenly,  and  Mrs.  Magee, 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

in  a  black  shawl  and  gown,  her  head  crowned 
with  a  brown  velvet  hat  ornamented  with  a 
wilted  red  plume,  entered. 

"Is  it  play-actin'  I  hear?"  she  asked  in  cold 
tones,  contrasting  with  her  energetic  and  not 
uncheerful  face.  "And  to  think  of  my  own 
flesh  and  blood  countenancin'  it:  Maginnis, 
with  a  rose  in  his  buttonhole,  usherin'  Chris 
tian  souls  to  destruction,  and  my  own  Mary 
Ann  in  a  front  seat  with  white  kid  gloves. 
Saints  above!  And  after  the  mission,  too! 
You  '11  never  have  a  day's  luck,  Maginnis ! 
The  Lord  be  between  us  and  ha-arrm ;  but  is  it 
over  the  blessed  cradle  of  Philomena  and  Al- 
phonsus  that  there  's  such  goings-on?" 

Maginnis's  arm,  which  had  relaxed  when 
Mrs.  Magee  entered,  straightened  furiously  at 
the  mention  of  the  objectionable  names.  He 
fixed  his  eyes  on  the  book,  which  now  he  ex 
posed  boldly. 

"'T  is  no  play-actin',  ma'am,"  he  said,  while 
148 


* 


*" 


THE  REIGN  OF  SENTIMENT 

Mary  Ann  watched  as  one  fascinated,  with  no 
motion,  except  that  of  her  lips  as  she  silently 
followed  his  words.  "I  am,  ma'am,  about  to 
lead  my  family  to  a  mansion  where  we  '11  won- 
dher — Mary  Ann  and  me — "  he  dropped  his 
eyes  to  the  book  again,  "why  earth  could  be 
unhappy  when  the  heavens  left  us  youth  and 
love—" 

Said  Mrs.  Magee,  with  a  stately  wave  of  her 
umbrella : 

"I  wondher  myself  whether  we  haven't  a 
lunatic  amongst  us." 

"Ah-a,"  pursued  Maginnis,  still  reading. 
"  We  '11  read  no  books'—" 

"You  'd  be  right  there,"  said  Herself,  "for 
they  're  turnin'  your  head." 

"Where  was  I?  You  ruthless  disthroyer!" 
exclaimed  Maginnis,  losing  his  place. 

"You  're  mighty  offensive!"  cried  Mrs.  Ma- 
gee,  removing  her  hat  aggressively.  "And  to 
me — to  the  woman  that  made  you,  you  omad- 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

haun !  If  I  was  n't  in  a  state  of  grace,  I  'd 
teach  you  a  thing  or  two !" 

"I  'm  afeard  of  no  man,  and,"  he  added,  with 
a  slight  tremolo,  "of  no  woman  either.  To 
morrow  I  shall  be  free  to  call  my  own  childer 
by  their  names." 

"The  man  's  ravin',  Mary  Ann,"  said  Her 
self,  with  an  imperious  air  of  proprietorship, 
smoothing  the  pillow  of  the  twins.  "If  I 
had  n't  locked  up  the  whisky  with  my  own 
hands,  I  'd  think  even  worse  of  him." 

Mrs.  Magee  cast  her  shawl  over  the  twins. 

"You  Ve  been  neglectin'  Alphonsus,  Mary 
Ann;  't  is  sneezin'  he  is." 

For  the  first  time  Mary  Ann's  eyes  shone 
with  the  light  of  revolt. 

"Woman,"  said  Maginnis  (Mrs.  Magee 
turned  her  back  to  him),  "to-day,  airly,  I  met 
a  young  lad  who  was  as  full  of  sintiment  as 
your  heart  is  distitute  of  it.  Cruel  crathures 
had  siperated  him  from  her  he  loved."  (Mrs. 


THE  REIGN  OF  SENTIMENT 

Magee  laughed  unfeelingly.)  "He  went  to 
the  Lodge;  he  was  refused  admittance.  As  I 
said,  he  was  like  a  weepin'-willow.  Tut  all 
the  sintiment  you  can  into  a  note/  says  I,  'and 
I  '11  take  it  to  the  colleen  at  the  risk  of  my  life/ 
says  I.  'Done/  says  he.  And  then  he  prom 
ised  that  if  things  came  right  Mary  Ann  and 
me  should  have  his  house  rent  free.  Mary 
Ann,  I  felt  my  heart  go  out  to  the  young  man, 
and  I  took  his  note,  written  as  much  in  his 
heart's  blood  as  in  ink;  but,  first,  knowin'  what 
his  reverence  and  a  lady  would  expect  under 
the  circumstances,  I  got  the  names  right,  and 
went  by  trolley  to  Bracton  for  a  marriage  li 


cense." 


Maginnis's  flight  was  so  audacious  that  Mrs. 
Magee  uttered  another  scornful  laugh. 

"Miss  White  did  n't  mind  me,  and  I  gave  the 
note  to  the  young  lady,  and  told  her  that  the 
marriage  license  was  ready,  and  that  I  'd  be 
one  of  the  witnesses,  and  that  Father  Dudley 

153 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

had  put  the  poor  weepin'-willow  of  a  lad  in  my 
care,  and  I  made  a  movin'  picture,  until  she  was 
dyin'  to  go.  So  she  just  made  an  excuse  about 
seein'  Father  Blodgett,  and  off  she  came  with 
me.  I  'm  informed  that  a  telegram  to  the 
bishop  did  the  rest;  for  Father  Blodgett  mar 
ried  them,  with  me  and  the  Dago  housekeeper 
as  witnesses,  and  the  happy  lad  he  was,  and 
she  as  pretty  as  Finola  there/' 

"I  '11  not  have  the  child  paganized  in  my 
house !"  cried  Mrs.  Magee. 

"In  your  house,  ma'am ;  I  go  to  my  house  to 
morrow,  ma'am!" 

"Oh,  Maginnis!"  exclaimed  Mary  Ann, 
"you  're  going  too  far ;  we  have  no  house." 

"Well  he  knows  it,"  said  Mrs.  Magee,  re 
gally;  "I  pay  no  more  attention  to  his  roman- 
cin'  than  to  the  idle  wind/  I  shall  take  care 
of  Alphonsus  and  Philomena,  poor  lambs! 
You  can  make  play-actors  of  the  rest,  if 
you  like;  but  them  I  shall  keep!"  And  she 


THE  REIGN  OF  SENTIMENT 

rocked  the  cradle  with  the  air  of  one  who  ruled. 

"In  this  letther,"  said  Maginnis,  in  a  solemn 
voice,  taking  a  sheet  of  paper  from  an  envelop 
and  laying  it  open  under  the  lamp,  "Leftenant 
Curtice  makes  me  and  my  little  family  cura- 
thors  and  caretakers  of  his  place  called  Brierly. 
And  there  it  is,  ma'am !" 

Mrs.  Magee  snorted  contemptuously,  but  she 
put  on  her  glasses  to  read  the  paper. 

"'T  is  true !"  she  exclaimed,  turning  to  Mary 
Ann,  as  one  utterly  desolate.  "Sure,  I  thought 
Maginnis  was  lyin'." 

"Did  I  ever  lie,  ma'am/'  asked  Maginnis, 
with  dignity,  "except  in  the  interest  of  truth? 
To-morrow  we  go  hence!" 

"But  you  11  leave  the  twins,"  said  Herself, 
with  sudden  humility.  "I  Jd  never  have  said 
what  I  did  if  I  had  n't  thought  you  were  lyin', 
Maginnis.  I  must  keep  the  twins ;  't  is  my  last 
request !" 

Maginnis  was  only  a  man,  and  for  a  moment 

155 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

he  relented;  then  he  remembered  that  he  was 
a  son-in-law. 

"Never !"  he  muttered,  "and  1 11  cross  my 
heart  to  it." 

"Maginnis,"  Mrs.  Magee  continued  solemnly, 
"I  say  no  more.  I  saw  a  pagan  Chinee  op- 
enin'  the  shutters  of  the  shop  beyant  this  morn- 
in',  and  I  felt  't  was  a  warnin'.  The  pagan 
and  the  foreigners  will  drive  us  to  the  dure 
yet,  thanks  to  the  likes  of  you !" 

She  left  the  room  slowly. 

"At  least,"  said  Maginnis,  somewhat  shak 
en,  "I  'm  all  right  with  you,  Mary  Ann,  and 
with  his  reverence.  I  feel,  Mary  Ann,  though 
she  's  been  a  good  mother  to  you,  as  if  I  was 
Erin  rid  of  the  bloody  Saxon." 

"You  did  indulge  in  sentiment,  after  all/'  re 
marked  the  bishop  to  Father  Dudley  on  the 
morning  after  his  secretary's  return  from  a 
short  sojourn  in  New  York,  where  he  had  gone 

156 


Baumgarten 


THE  REIGN  OF  SENTIMENT 
to  arrange  for  the  publication  of  his  first  vol 
ume  of  sermons.  "I  had  a  telegram  from  Fa 
ther  Blodgett.  Maginnis,  it  seems,  had  the  li 
cense  ready ;  it 's  an  easy  matter  in  our  State. 
As  you  were  too  far  away  to  consult,  I  did  what 
I  could." 

"Well,  well,  well !"  said  Father  Dudley,  smil 
ing.  "I  told  Martin  Baumgarten  that  a  little 
romance  would  settle  things;  I  believe  that  I 
have  a  touch  of  sentiment." 

"There's  a  telegram  for  you,  too,  under 
your  plate,"  said  the  bishop,  fixing  his  eyes  on 
the  editorial  page  of  the  "Star." 

The  secretary's  face  assumed  a  look  of  toler 
ance  for  the  defects  of  the  whole  human  race. 
He  looked  at  the  yellow  slip  jocosely,  and  began 
to  read  it  aloud,  but  he  checked  himself.  With 
out  an  unkind  word  to  the  bishop,  he  laid  the 
paper  down  and  peeled  his  orange,  metaphoric 
ally  turning  his  face  to  the  wall.  He  no  longer 
smiled,  for  Willie  Curtice  had  said : 

159 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

Maginnis  told  me  of  your  interest.  Do  not 
deserve  it.  Have  helped  to  make  Edith  happy, 
as  well  as  me.  Soon  as  have  seen  Mrs.  West- 
bro  and  explained  your  goodness,  will  start  for 
'Frisco. 


1 60 


V 

THE   SECLUSION    OF   ROSALIA 

MRS.  THEOBOLDS,  wife  of  the  presi 
dent  of  Collamore  College,  had  deter 
mined  to  enjoy  herself.  She  was  a 
tall,  graceful  woman,  sufficiently  old  to  have 
two  sons  among  the  sophomores  and  juniors  at 
Yale,  but,  being  a  blonde,  she  would  have 
looked  younger  if  it  were  not  for  the  two  deep, 
upright  wrinkles  on  her  forehead,  caused,  the 
frivolous  said,  by  twenty  years'  association 
with  the  wives  of  the  members  of  the  faculty  of 
this  celebrated  "fresh-water"  college.  The 
long  vacation  was  a  week  old,  and  Mrs.  Theo- 
bolds  had  now  no  fear  of  the  educators  and 
students  that  are  the  necessary  evils  of  college 

161 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

life.  She  could  now  wear  the  blue  kimono,  cut 
rather  low  in  the  neck,  which  Willie  Curtice 
had  sent  to  her  from  Manila,  and  imagine  her 
self,  on  this  lovely  June  morning,  young  again. 
At  the  breakfast-table,  which  sparkled  and  glit 
tered  about  a  big  blue  bowl  filled  with  yellow 
roses,  she  waited  for  the  president,  who  was 
taking  a  leisurely  shave.  The  room  was  filled 
with  the  scent  of  magnolias  from  the  back  gar 
den,  while  through  the  French  window  the  red 
glow  of  a  big  bed  of  peonies  seemed  to  tint  the 
air. 

Mrs.  Theobolds  was  a  woman  of  high  princi 
ples  ;  she  discouraged  gossip  among  her  equals, 
but  she  believed  that  it  was  good  for  her  in 
feriors  to  open  their  hearts  to  her.  Maginnis 
had  come  over,  as  usual  on  Saturdays,  with  a 
basket  of  chickens  and  fresh  eggs  from  the  Cur 
tice  place.  As  usual,  Maginnis  had  been 
shown  into  the  presence  of  "Madam  Presi 
dent,"  as  some  of  the  wicked  ladies  of  the  fac- 

162 


THE  SECLUSION  OF  ROSALIA 

ulty  had  called  this  long-suffering  woman. 
Collamore  College,  by  the  way,  is  two  miles 
from  Bracton,  so  that  Maginnis's  walk  was  not 
a  long  one,  and  a  somewhat  shorter  distance 
from  the  city  in  which  the  bishop  lived.  The 
monastery  of  St.  Thomas  Celino  was  visible 
from  trie  college.  There  Maginnis  often  rested 
in  his  walk  for  converse  with  his  friend  Brother 
Felix  who  was  unlike  in  all  ways  the  friend  of 
his  dreams,  the  sympathetic  Brother  Gambo- 
rious. 

"'T  is  not  for  the  likes  of  me  to  complain  to 
the  likes  of  you,  ma'am/'  said  Maginnis,  as  he 
fixed  on  the  basket  at  his  feet  his  brown  eyes, 
the  gentle  innocence  of  expression  of  which  had 
made  Mrs.  Theobolds  his  firm  friend;  "but  if 
ever  a  man  was  tormented,  it  's  me.  Women 
are  a  saycret  society  among  themselves, 
ma'am;  and  the  man  —  savin'  your  presence  — 
is  always  on  the  outside.  I  don't  say  that  my 
mother-in-law  is  n't  a  good  woman  ;  but,  after 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

drivin'  me  and  Mary  Ann  out  of  the  house, 
ma'am,  to  seek  our  own  little  home,  Herself 
writes  last  week  that  she  's  dyin'  with  the  mis 
ery  in  her  back,  and  Mary  Ann  must  go  to  her 
at  once,  with  the  twins.  'It 's  a  trick/  says  I, 
knowin'  the  ways  of  the  world.  'Herself  's  no 
more  sick  'an  I  am/  Then  Mary  Ann  howls 
with  grief.  'It 's  a  broken  heart  she  has,  Ma- 
ginnis,'  says  she,  'for  the  loss  of  the  twins;  an' 
I  '11  go  to  her  if  it  costs  my  life,'  and  off  she 
went.  And  here  I  am,  with  the  boarder,  the 
little  colored  orphant  and  the  other  three  chil 
dren  with  me.  'It 's  my  duty,'  says  Mary  Ann. 
It 's  a  saycret  society — savin'  your  presence, 
ma'am — the  women  are." 

"I  trust  that  your  boarder,  Mrs.  Wetherill, 
is  in  good  health,"  said  Mrs.  Theobolds,  eva 
sively. 

"Rosalia  O'Keefe  keeps  to  herself,"  an 
swered  Maginnis,  raising  his  eyes ;  "and  she  's 

164 


THE  SECLUSION  OF  ROSALIA 

good  to  the  children.  She  was  gloomy  enough 
when  she  came.  Her  husband  has  lost  his 
money — Herself  wrote  it  to  Mary  Ann — and 
he  has  left  her/'  added  Maginnis,  with  a  sigh, 
"for  no  reason  at  all  except  that  the  ladies  over 
here  did  n't  like  her." 

"I  trust,  Maginnis,  that  you  will  contradict 
that,"  said  Mrs.  Theobolds,  severely:  "Dr. 
Wetherill  was  called  away  to  read  a  paper  be 
fore  some  learned  societies  in  the  North,  and 
his  wife  closed  her  house  on  the  campus  and, 
as  you  know,  went  over  to  board  with  you. 
Dr.  Wetherill  has  not  been  very  long  a  mem 
ber  of  our  faculty,  but  both  he  and  his  wife  are 
highly  respected.  Two  friends  of  his  from  a 
German  university  have  been  visiting  my  hus 
band,  and  I  have  n't  had  time  to  call.  They 
are  eminent  professors,  and  they  are  in  search 
of  an  American  doctor  for  a  special  branch; 
but  all  our  younger  professors  are  unmarried 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

or  have  no  children,  and  they  want,  it  seems,  a 
man  with  a  family.  Believe  me,  Dr.  Wether- 
ill  has  had  no  money  difficulties." 

"Herself  knows/'  said  Maginnis,  doggedly. 
"T  is  natural  enough,"  he  added,  "that  even 
the  Dutch  should  n't  want  a  doctor  without  ex 
perience.  'Maginnis/  said  Mary  Ann,  just  be 
fore  we  expected  the  twins,  'I  '11  have  no  whip 
per-snapper  of  a  doctor  that  has  no  children  of 
his  own/  " 

Mrs.  Theobolds  abruptly  changed  the  sub 
ject. 

"Some  of  the  Italians  on  the  railroad  would 
be  better  if  they  went  to  church,  I  fancy — any 
church.  Perhaps,  if  you  would  speak  to  your 
priest,  he  might  look  into  the  matter/' 

"Is  it  of  the  Dagos  you  're  talkin',  ma'am  ?" 
asked  Maginnis,  his  face  catching  the  tint  of 
the  peonies.  "There  's  no  religion  in  them — 
livin'  on  garlic  and  tomatoes,  as  they  do,  and 

166 


THE  SECLUSION  OF  ROSALIA 

hangin'  St.  Joseph  by  the  neck  if  he  does  n't 
give  them  what  they  want." 

"Ah,"  said  Mrs.  Theobolds,  with  a  sigh,  "I 
often  think  that  if  they  could  be  taught  to  go 
direct  to  their  Creator — "  She  paused,  for 
she  feared  that  she  was  approaching  delicate 
ground. 

"Sure,  you  don't  expect  the  Almighty  to 
waste  his  time  with  the  likes  of  them!"  ex 
claimed  Maginnis.  "Hasn't  he  given  them 
enough  Eye-talian  saints  of  their  own 
kind,  with  just  enough  sense  to  understand 
them  ?  Father  Blodgett — but  he  's  a  convert, 
with  the  Protestant  drop  still  in  him — thinks 
like  you,  ma'am ;  but  he  '11  find  out.  And,  sure, 
ma'am,  I  'm  sorry  that  poor  Rosy  O'Keefe's 
pride  has  had  a  fall ;  I  suppose  that  her  and  the 
doctor  just  had  a  bit  of  a  row,  as  most  married 
folks  have — the  best  of  us,  ma'am?" 

Mrs.  Theobolds  made  no  reply,  and  Magin- 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

nis,  having  discovered,  as  he  thought,  that  Ro 
salia's  husband  was  a  doctor  out  of  a  place,  and 
that  there  had  been  a  lovers'  quarrel,  stooped  to 
show  his  patroness  the  symmetry  of  the  eggs 
and  the  freshness  of  the  chickens.  His  heart 
went  out  to  Rosalia. 

"Sure,"  he  thought,  "even  Herself  could 
never  hold  anything  against  Rosalia,  now  that 
she  's  down  in  the  world." 

Before  he  left,  Maginnis  managed  to  perme 
ate  the  air  with  so  much  reverence  for  beauty 
that  Mrs.  Theobolds  felt  that  the  blue  kimono 
had  indeed  made  her  young  again. 

A  little  later,  Maginnis,  with  his  empty  bas 
ket,  stepped  into  the  monastery  garden  to  see 
his  friend  Brother  Felix,  with  whom,  on  vari 
ous  accounts,  he  had  opened  business  relations. 
Brother  Felix,  wearing  monastic  sandals,  with 
his  brown  robe  tucked  up,  was  clipping  the  box 
hedges  that  bordered  the  main  approach  to  the 
monastery.  An  amiable  smile  shone  on  his 

168 


, 


"  I  'in  just  wonderin'  whether  you  ;d  look  so  much  like 
smilin"  baby  if  you  had  a  mother-in-law  " 


THE  SECLUSION  OF  ROSALIA 

placid  face,  and  he  received  with  a  nod  of  the 
head  the  twenty-five  nails  Maginnis  had  bor 
rowed  from  him  a  month  before. 

"I  'm  not  envyin'  you,"  said  Maginnis,  pull 
ing  up  his  blue  overalls  and*  looking  thought 
fully  at  the  stout  brother;  "but  I  'm  just  won- 
derin'  whether  you  'd  look  so  much  like  a  smil- 
in'  baby  if  you  had  a  mother-in-law.  It  was  n't 
till  after  Eve  ate  the  apple  that  mother-in-laws 
came  into  the  world  at  all,  at  all." 

Brother  Felix  shook  his  head  and  tried  to  dig 
up  a  stiff  bit  of  plantain  from  the  gravel  with 
his  big  toe,  a  process  which  his  sandal  made 
easier.  Brother  Felix  was  stout  and  cheerful, 
but  he  took  life  seriously  and  silently. 

"Atam  might  have  been  better  by  his  lone 
self,"  he  said  at  last,  tying  the  white  cord  more 
tightly  around  his  waist,  and  clipping  a  few 
feet  of  the  hedge.  "But  I  do  not  know.  It  is 
foolish  to  think.  It  is  better  to  pray." 

Maginnis  asked  after  the  German  professors, 
171 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

who,  one  of  Mrs.  Theobold's  retainers  had  told 
him,  were  sojourning  in  the  monastery.  "If 
your  wife  makes  not  long  away,"  said  Brother 
Felix,  "I  will  send  them  to  board  with  you. 
They  are  very  learned  men,  and  they  bring  let 
ters  from  Germany  to  the  father  abbot.  At 
first/'  continued  Brother  Felix,  wiping  his 
shears  with  a  wisp  of  hay,  "I  thought  they  came 
to  our  holy  house  for  religion,  but  I  find  out 
that  it  was  for  the  beer.  We  make  good  beer ; 
they  are  infidels,  but  gemuthlich." 

Maginnis  waited  while  Brother  Felix  silent 
ly  shook  his  head  until  his  little  brown  skullcap 
threatened  to  fall  off. 

"Ach,  sehr  gemuthlich,"  he  added.  "They  are 
professors  from  Prussia — Herr  Doctor  Brach- 
stein,  who  is  old,  and  Herr  Doctor  Scherm- 
Weinhausen,  who  is  younger.  They  lived  at 
the  college,  seeking  for  a  doctor  to  take  home 
with  them  who  knows  the  American  ways ;  they 
talk  to  me  when  I  take  water  to  them.  They 

172 


THE  SECLUSION  OF  ROSALIA 

liked  not  the  American  ways  at  the  college. 
The  ladies  were  too  fine,  and  there  were  no 
children  about;  there  were  many  dinners  at 
night,  but  no  Geinilthlichkeit ;  there  was  no 
home.  They  will  give  much  money  to  our 
American  doctor;  but  they  do  not  like  to  have 
at  home  wives,  who  are  as  grand  as  court  Da- 
men,  who  cannot  care  for  the  home  or  the  chil 
dren.  Such  doctors'  wives  would  be  a  bad  ex 
ample  to  the  female  youth  of  the  fatherland. 
They  are  infidels,"  said  Brother  Felix,  slowly, 
"but  about  women  they  are  right." 

"Is  it  truth  you're  tellin'  me?"  demanded 
Maginnis,  intensely  interested. 

Brother  Felix  unearthed  a  small  sorrel  root. 

"Germans  do  not  lie :  the  Irishers  cannot  un 
derstand  that.  Shall  I  get  you  some  beer  ?" 

The  monastery  was  prevented,  by  the  preju 
dices  of  the  bishop,  from  selling  the  excellent 
beer,  the  secret  of  which  its  friars  had  import 
ed;  but  there  was  no  law  against  giving  it  to 

173 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

the  neighbors,  and  some  -of  the  neighbors,  con 
sequently,  seemed  to  love  the  friars  as  them 
selves. 

"All  in  good  time,"  exclaimed  Maginnis,  his 
face  intent;  "tell  me  about  these  Dutch." 

"They  are  not  Dutch,"  said  Brother  Felix; 
"they  are  Prussians." 

"It  Js  no  time  for  nonsense,"  answered  Ma 
ginnis.  "The  Dutch  are  all  the  same.  Am  I 
to  understand  that  they  're  lookin'  for  a  mar 
ried  doctor  with  children?  and  that  they 
would  n't  take  one  from  the  college  ?  It  's 
wantin'  to  be  even  with  the  black  Orangemen 
up  there  I  am !  There  's  that  stuck-up  O'Keef e 
girl  marryin'  out  of  her  own  people,"  he  solilo 
quized,  while  Brother  Felix  patiently  cleaned 
the  path  of  almost  invisible  weeds.  "I  warned 
her — the  saints  know  I  warned  her — and  the 
college  people  don't  think  she  's  their  equal,  and 
the  proud  Irish  blood  in  her  has  rose  up  against 
her  husband,  and  she  's  a  lone  woman  again ! 


THE  SECLUSION  OF  ROSALIA 

Sure,  she  's  only  a  Tip ;  but  blood  's  thicker  than 
water  any  day.  The  black  Saxon  crowd  at  the 
college  shall  see  our  Irish  girl  go  ahead  of  them 
or  I  'm  not  Maginnis." 

"They  are  not  bad  people/'  said  Brother  Fe 
lix.  "You  speak  too  much  against  holy  char 
ity.  The  herr  professors — I  have  heard  them 
talk — find  many  learned  men  at  the  college; 
but  they  do  not  like  the  ladies:  they  are  too 
amerikanisch.  They  like  women  who  take  care 
of  the  children,  who  make  the  coffee,  and  who 
will  not  corrupt  the  manners  of  the  good  Ger 
man  female  youth." 

"Oh,  holy  Moses!"  said  Maginnis,  "I  wish 
they  'd  take  Herself !  You  '11  send  them  to  me 
as  boarders,  though  what  I  'm  to  do  with  them, 
with  only  the  little  nigger  to  help,  I  don't 
know." 

"Ja  wohl,"  answered  Brother  Felix,  amiably. 
"Their  beer  can  be  sent  to  them  every  day. 
They  have  been  with  us  long  enough." 

175 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON    MAGINNIS 

"If  Rosalia  O'Keef  e  only  had  a  child  or  two ! 
Bad  -cess  to  him !  Why  did  n't  that  Wetherill 
meet  her  four  years  ago  ?  It's  a  great  chance 
entirely  for  a  young  doctor  to  get  a  big  prac 
tice  in  a  foreign  country,  and  Rosalia  will  be 
best  away  from  the  college  upstarts.  Do  these 
Dutch,  or  Prooshins,  speak  English  at  all?" 
Maginnis  asked  gloomily. 

"A  few  vorts,"  Brother  Felix  replied;  "but 
they  speak  Irish  already/' 

Maginnis's  face  clouded:  for  a  moment  it 
seemed  as  if  not  even  the  sacred  robe  of  Broth 
er  Felix  could  save  him  from  vengeance;  but 
the  friar's  face  was  so  bland  that  the  insulted 
one  controlled  his  wrath. 

"You  're  an  omadhaun  to  believe  it ;  sure  you 
know  they  're  Dutch !" 

Brother  Felix  always  left  the  truth  to  itself. 
He  did  not  repeat  his  assertion;  the  abbot  had 
said  it. 

176 


THE  SECLUSION  OF  ROSALIA 

"But  if  Rosey  O'Keefe  only  had  children !" 
said  Maginnis,  meditatively. 

Brother  Felix  had  been  told  that  Professor 
Brachstein  was  the  author  of  the  well-known 
monograph  on  the  Celtic  element  in  Basque, 
and  that  the  great  Scherm-Weinhausen  had 
thoroughly  analyzed  all  the  noun-prefixes  in  a 
remote  Kerry  dialect ;  but  he  had  forgotten  this. 
Brachstein  read  old  Irish,  but  Scherm-Wein 
hausen,  who  had  spent  several  summers  in  Ire 
land,  spoke  modern  Irish  with  a  pronounced 
Berlinese  accent.  They  had  learned  no  Eng 
lish,  as  they  had  been  informed  that  Boston  and 
New  York  were  Irish  cities.  They  had  come 
to  America  for  amusement.  Incidentally,  they 
hoped  to  consult  with  an  American  doctor  of 
philosophy  about  the  advisability  of  founding 
a  chair  for  the  study  of  American  institutions 
in  their  own  university. 

"And  do  you  mean  to  say  that  the  Dutch 
177 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

know  the  holy  Irish  speech?"  Truth  was 
plainly  written  on  the  face  of  Brother  Felix. 
"Sure,  it  beats  the  world !" 

"And  you  must  now  go  to  Germany  to  learn 
Irish/'  Brother  Felix  said,  with  a  gleam  of 
chastened  triumph  in  his  eyes.  "That  I  know 
already." 

Fire  came  into  the  face  of  Maginnis.  The 
friar  stepped  aside,  for  on  the  path  from  the 
monastery  were  the  two  savants. 

Herr  Doctor  of  Philosophy  Brachstein 
seemed  to  be  over  sixty  years  of  age.  A  stiff 
brush  of  gray  hair,  in  which  his  keen  blue  eyes 
were  almost  lost,  covered  his  head  and  nearly 
all  his  face;  his  gray  cloth  sack-coat  was  rum 
pled,  and  his  soft  hat  and  baggy  gray  trousers 
were  of  the  same  slightly  soiled  tint.  He 
swung  a  big  oak  stick  and  talked  rapidly. 
Scherm-Weinhausen  was  about  ten  years 
younger;  he  wore  a  green  Hamburg  hat  with 


THE  SECLUSION  OF  ROSALIA 

a  feather  in  the  black  band,  a  white  waistcoat, 
a  dark-green  sack-coat,  with  extremely  tight 
trousers  and  yellow  spats.  A  pointed  blond 
beard,  a  wide  and  sympathetic  smile,  and  heavy 
gold  spectacles  completed  the  aspect  of  a  man 
who,  in  his  own  domestic  circle,  was  considered 
a  model  of  fashion. 

"Ach,  then,  beloved  friend,"  Doctor  Brach- 
stein  was  saying,  in  a  deep  voice  that  suggested 
cool  caverns  of  rippling  beer,  "I  admire  the 
soul-myths;  and  if  Christianity  is  as  our  own 
Von  Schleicher  says,  only  an  invention  to  influ 
ence  men  who  have  no  taste  for  virtue  moral, 
yet-" 

Brother  Felix  could  stand  this  no  longer ;  he 
made  up  his  mind  to  rid  the  monastery  of  the 
infidels.  He  turned  from  Maginnis  and  ex 
plained  him  in  good  Hanoverian. 

"Ach"  said  Brachstein,  beaming  benevo 
lently  at  Maginnis,  "he  will  take  us  to  lodge — 

179 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

so?  And  his  house  is  quiet,  and  there  is  a 
Hausmutter  with  little  children  there ;  and  our 
beer  will  be  sent — so  ?" 

Herr  Doctor  Scherm-Weinhausen  also 
beamed,  and  began  to  talk  in  fluent  Irish  as  to 
terms. 

"Holy  saints!"  murmured  Maginnis,  "the 
creature  would  speak  well  enough  if  he  had  n't 
had  the  bad  luck  to  have  a  Dutch  mother." 

Scherm-Weinhausen  was  very  bland;  the 
terms  suited  him.  No,  there  were  no  other 
boarders?  The  Frau  Professorin  Wetherill, 
whose  husband  he  had  known  in  Germany? 
Ja  wohl.  And  the  Herr  Doctor  Wetherill  had 
no  children,  and  his  wife  was  a  too  fine  court 
Dame,  like  the  wives  of  the  others,  doubtless  ? 

Maginnis's  face  became  illuminated  as  by 
the  passing  of  a  great  thought. 

"Is  it  a  fine  lady  she  is  ?"  he  exclaimed  in  his 
native  speech.  "She  can  do  her  own  washin' 

1 80 


THE  SECLUSION  OF  ROSALIA 

— and  she  has  three  of  the  most  beautiful  chil 
dren  you  ever  set  eyes  on !" 

"That  is  well.  I  like  the  shrill  voices  of 
children  in  the  house/'  said  Scherm-Weinhaus- 
en,  who  had  six  of  his  own;  "but  not  in  the 
night." 

"Not  in  the  night,"  echoed  Professor  Brach- 
stein,  solemnly,  in  German.  "I  love  better  mu 
sic  in  the  night." 

"Is  the  Frau  Doctorin  Wetherill  musical?" 
asked  Scherm-Weinhausen. 

"She  sings  like  an  angel!"  declared  Ma- 
ginnis. 

"So?"  exclaimed  Scherm-Weinhausen,  and 
the  arrangement  was  complete,  much  to  the 
delight  of  Brother  Felix,  who  gladly  guaran 
teed  that  a  sufficient  supply  of  the  monastery 
beer  should  be  conveyed  to  the  Brierly  spring- 
house  twice  a  day. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  the  two  professors, 
with  long  and  capacious  pipes  in  their  mouths, 

183 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

strolled  up  the  rocky  lane  which  led  to  Brierly. 
The  great  bed  of  pink  and  crimson  peonies  on 
the  ill-kept  lawn  delighted  them;  and  catching 
the  two  older  Maginnis  children,  who  were 
playfully  teaching  a  captive  toad  to  jump  over 
oak  twigs,  they  began  to  romp  like  two  big 
boys.  Life  was  gemilthlich  at  last. 

Just  at  this  time  Rosalia  Wetherill  was  in  her 
lowest  spirits.  Confident  in  her  riches,  she  had 
tried  to  enter  a  new  world,  and  her  coin,  valu 
able  as  it  seemed,  was  looked  upon  as  counter 
feit.  She  was  sure  that  Guy  loved  her;  she 
knew  that  he  believed  that  she  was  the  most 
beautiful  woman  in  the  world.  On  the  very 
last  morning,  before  she  had  gone  away  from 
him  to  eat  her  heart  in  anger,  he  had  quoted 
from  his  favorite  sonnet: 

"You  were  so  slow  to  draw  the  graceful  shade 
Of  tremulous  eyelash  which  deep   shadows 

made 

That  from  the  darkness  shot  a  star's  long 
ray." 

184 


THE  SECLUSION  OF  ROSALIA 

She  was  not  sure  that  she  understood  it,  but 
she  wanted  to  understand  it;  she  wanted  to  be 
a  part  of  Guy's  mind,  of  his  soul.  Mere  beauty 
she  knew  now,  could  not  secure  that.  She  re 
membered,  with  hot  blushes,  that  one  of  the 
women  at  the  college  had  pronounced  her 
"crude."  If  she  had  not  felt  herself  to  be  crude 
in  comparison  with  these  more  cultivated  wo 
men,  she  would  not  have  gone  off,  in  silence, 
irritated  with  him,  with  herself,  with  all  things. 
While  the  women  of  the  faculty  were  arrang 
ing  competitive  courses  of  Little  Neck  clams 
and  soft-shell  crabs  for  the  Germans,  she  had 
fled  to  this  retreat  in  desolation,  with  the  word 
"crude"  ringing  in  her  ears.  Would  Guy  ever 
come  to  think  that  word  when  he  thought  of 
her?  She  had  left  him  before  he  could  think 
it.  Her  first  longing  to  return  scorn  for  scorn 
had  died  out.  If  Guy  had  married  a  woman  of 
his  own  set,  his  wife  might  have  held  her  own. 
That  masterful  father  of  hers — the  last  appeal 

185 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

in  all  cases  since  her  babyhood — could  not  aid 
her  in  this  new  world.  When  she  saw  Brach- 
stein  and  Scherm-Weinhausen  coming  up  the 
lane,  she  powdered  her  face  lightly,  encircled 
her  waist  with  a  new  satin  girdle,  and  went 
down  stairs,  a  vision  of  beauty,  clothed  in  di 
aphanous  white.  Little  Mary,  the  youngest  of 
the  Maginnis  children,  wept  aloud,  and  she  re 
turned  to  comb  the  child's  golden  hair  and 
make  it  presentable. 

Rosalia's  brunette  color,  set  off  by  the  glow 
ing  hair  above,  and  illuminated  by  one  of  those 
soft  white  frocks  which  only  women  in  the 
South  understand,  seem  to  cloud  the  splendor 
of  the  peonies,  as,  with  the  pretty  little  blue- 
eyed  Mary  by  the  hand,  she  dawned  upon 
the  vision  of  the  Germans.  They  dropped 
the  Maginnis  boys,  and  clicked  their  heels  to 
gether. 

Scherm-Weinhausen  said  nothing ;  he  merely 
blushed  and,  an  unusual  sign  of  emotion,  took 

186 


THE  SECLUSION  OF  ROSALIA 

his  pipe  from  his  mouth.  Maginnis,  watering- 
pot  in  one  hand  and  a  pan  of  young  peas  in  the 
other,  stood  watching  the  effect. 

"And  the  lovely  little  child-angel !  How  like 
she  is  to  her  mother !  Ah,  the  gold  of  the  hair ! 
She  is  so  like!"  said  Scherm-Weinhausen  to 
Maginnis. 

"She  is,"  said  Maginnis,  relapsing  into  Eng 
lish;  "she  is  the  very  spit  of  her." 

Rosalia  was  not  unaware  of  the  impression 
she  had  made,  and  her  heart  began  to  soften. 
They  were,  it  is  true,  uncouth  persons,  who 
could  not  speak  her  language,  and  yet  they 
were  not  without  taste.  She,  who  loved  chil 
dren,  dragged  the  small  Maginnis  boys  into  the 
house  with  much  laughter. 

Scherm-Weinhausen  followed  her  with  ad 
miring  eyes. 

"Ach,"  he  said  slowly,  "I  am  homesick;" 
and  then  to  Maginnis,  in  his  own  Kerry  dialect : 
"The  beautiful  Frau  Wetherill  is  a  good  moth- 

is/ 


THE  WILES  OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

er;  I  can  see  that  she  loves  her  children.     She 
is  a  noble  mother." 

"True  for  you,"  answered  Maginnis,  forget 
ting,  in  the  artistic  fever  of  the  moment,  that 
the  learned  man  knew  no  English.  "She  's  a 
mother  all  over.  Sure  it  do  be  bringin'  tears 
to  my  eyes  to  see  her  workin'  with  thim  chil 
dren.  They  're  the  apples  of  her  eyes.  She  '11 
not  let  them  out  of  her  sight.  'Maginnis/  she 
says  to  me  one  day,  'it  Js  as  lonely  as  a  lost 
soul  I  'd  be  without  me  three  young  ones.  Ma 
ginnis/  says  she,  the  tears  runnin'  down  her 
nose,  'it 's  only  three  I  have,  but  they  're  like 
the  three  leaves  of  the  shamrock.'  And,  as  to 
her  husband,  he  has  n't  much  practice,  because 
he  is  young,  but  a  better  doctor  does  n't  exist." 
Maginnis  was  obliged,  by  the  blank  look  on 
Scherm-Weinhausen's  face,  to  translate  this 
speech  into  Irish,  which  he  did,  with  variations 
suited  to  the  theme.  Rosalia  regretted  that 
her  German  was  so  rudimentary. 

1 88 


THE  SECLUSION  OF  ROSALIA 

After  supper,  in  which  mugs  of  beer  played 
a  prominent  part,  Rosalia  carried  the  sleepy 
little  Mary  up  to  bed. 

"Charlotte!"  murmured  Brachstein.  "Ach, 
dear  friend,  I  read  the  'Sorrows  of  Werther' 
again,  as  in  my  youth." 

"She  made  the  salad  of  potatoes,"  said 
Scherm-Weinhausen,  strophically ;  "there  was 
enough  onion  in  it.  It  is  so  soothing  with  the 
good  beer !" 

A  week  of  clear  days  passed,  each  like  the 
other;  but  every  day  the  weight  on  Rosalia's 
heart  grew  heavier.  Maginnis  watched  her 
and  chuckled. 

On  the  night  before  the  day  of  their  depar 
ture,  the  two  professors  sat  on  the  rickety  porch 
and  smoked  until  the  moon  came  up  and  Ro 
salia  appeared.  Maginnis,  puffing  at  a  clay 
pipe,  seated  himself  on  the  lowest  step.  The 
soft  rhythm  of  insects,  broken  by  the  distant 
chant  of  frogs,  smote  the  silence,  and  the  air 

189 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

was  rich  with  the  scent  of  honeysuckle  and  of 
heliotrope. 

"It  is  gemuthlich"  said  Brachstein,  looking 
at  the  profile  of  Rosalia  as  she  stood  near  the 
peony-bed. 

"There  was  enough  onion  in  the  potato- 
salad/'  murmured  Scherm-Weinhausen,  hap 
pily. 

"It  may  be  that  the  frau  would  something 
sing?"  suggested  Brachstein,  after  a  long 
pause  of  comfort.  Scherm-Weinhausen  re 
peated  the  suggestion  to  Maginnis. 

"Whist!"  said  Maginnis;  "she  'd  be  afraid  of 
wakenin'  the  children.  Her  mind  is  just  of  the 
children,  day  and  night.  If  you  wait  awhile, 
maybe  we  '11  get  her  to  sing  The  Harp  that 
Wanst;'  but  it's  a  sad  song  for  her,"  added 
Maginnis,  his  artistic  instinct  fired  by  the  re 
ceptivity  of  his  auditors. 

"She  is  young  to  be  sad,"  said  Brachstein, 
who  caught  the  words.  "She  is  young — so?" 

190 


THE  SECLUSION  OF  ROSALIA 

"'T  is  the  mother's  heart,"  said  Maginnis, 
pensively. 

"Ach,  so!"  answered  the  grizzled  Brachstein 
—"the  mother's  heart." 

Scherm-Weinhausen  nodded  responsively. 
"She  has  known  sorrow,  and  a  song  is  sad  to 
her." 

"The  children  were  sick,"  said  Maginnis,  in 
a  sepulchral  voice ;  "and  The  Harp  that  Wanst' 
was  their  favor-ite  song,"  he  added,  dropping 
unconsciously  into  English.  "I  mean  the  song 
she  sang  them  asleep  with." 

Scherm-Weinhausen  understood,  and  gave 
the  version  to  Brachstein. 

"Like  Thekla,"  answered  Scherm-Wein 
hausen,  through  the  moist  waves  of  the  helio 
trope  scent,  which  even  the  pipe-smoke  could 
not  dissipate.  "Ah,  the  soft  heart!" 

"Owls!"  said  Rosalia  to  Maginnis. 

"Owls  is  no  name  for  thim,"  promptly  re 
torted  Maginnis ;  "they  're  more  like  bats  with 

191 


THE  WILES  OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

smoke-stacks — Dutch  bats,  at  that."  He 
chuckled;  a  week  before  he  had  written  on  a 
postal  card  to  Wetherill :  "Come  home  at  once. 
Your  wife  needs  you." 

Of  course  Wetherill  would  come.  Of  course 
these  German  owls  would  choose  him  for  the 
place  in  their  benighted  land.  Rosalia  had 
captured  them.  Maginnis  shook  with  laughter 
until  the  rickety  porch  trembled.  And  the  col 
lege  people !  They  'd  be  as  mad  as  Cromwell 
was  on  the  day  he  could  n't  hang  a  Limerick 
man! 

While  Maginnis  chuckled,  Rosalia  went  into 
the  drawing-room  and,  opening  the  piano  made 
for  a  Mrs.  Curtice  in  the  fifties,  began  to  sing 
"Violets"  in  the  German  language. 

"Ach,  that  is  lovely!"  said  the  impression 
able  Scherm-Weinhausen,  waking  suddenly 
from  a  slight  sleep.  "The  English  speech  is 
sweet!" 

When  she  had  played  the  "Stephanie  Ga- 
192 


THE  SECLUSION  OF  ROSALIA 

votte"  and  Mendelssohn's  "Spring  Song," 
Rosalia  said  good  night  very  amiably.  She 
went  into  the  room  of  the  sleeping  children, 
and  solaced  herself  by  such  maternal  cares  as 
warding  off  drafts  and  replacing  coverings. 

"You  hear  her  beyond?"  asked  Maginnis. 

"I  hear/'  said  Scherm-Weinhausen. 

"She  is  sayin'  her  prayers  over  the  children," 
said  Maginnis,  pathetically.  "The  saints  for 
give  me!"  he  breathed  piously. 

"The  mother-soul  is  truly  divine,"  said 
Scherm-Weinhausen.  "If  religion  did  not 
exist,  the  mother  would  make  us  invent  it,  as 
Von  Schleicher  says.  And  the  salad  with  the 
onions,  Maginnis, — a  small  portion  with  beer 
would  be  truly  getnuthlich" 

"Thou  didst  know  the  Herr  Doctor  Wether- 
ill?"  asked  Brachstein,  when  the  "small"  por 
tion  of  the  delectable  salad  had  been  pro 
duced. 

"At     Schleswigstein,"    answered     Scherm- 

193 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 
Weinhausen.     "He  was  as  a  soul-brother  to 


me." 


"You  seldom  spoke  of  him  before,"  said 
Brachstein,  between  two  long  draughts  of  beer. 

"Ach,  Himmel!  no,"  said  Scherm-Wein- 
hausen,  artlessly;  "I  did  not  know  I  loved  him 
so  much  until  I  saw  his  well-born  wife." 

"Maginnis,"  called  out  Rosalia,  before 
breakfast  the  eighth  morning,  "I  would  whip 
those  boys  of  yours  within  an  inch  of  their  lives 
if  I  could.  They  Ve  torn  down  all  the  wild 
grape-vines  in  the  lane !" 

And,  then  as  their  father  did  not  move,  she 
made  a  dash  at  Thomas  Francis  Meagher  Ma 
ginnis,  just  as  he  had  jumped  into  the  peony- 
bed,  and  held  him  fast.  He  was  a  stout  boy, 
but  Rosalia  was  not  only  strong  but  scien 
tific;  and,  as  she  manipulated  Thomas,  her 
sleeves  rolled  up  from  her  beautiful  arms, 
Brachstein,  startled  by  the  outcry,  came  out 
upon  the  gallery.  With  precision  the  strokes 

194 


•i 


>'  Ach,  the  mother-hand  !"  repeated  Scherm-Weinhausen 


THE  SECLUSION  OF  ROSALIA 

of  Rosalia's  large  white  hand  delivered  their 
message  physiologically  and  psychologically. 

Brachstein  called  Scherm-Weinhausen,  .and 
they  stood  in  the  shaking  'gallery  in  ecstasy. 
Rosalia's  face  was  almost  as  pink  as  the  peo 
nies,  but  she  gave  chase  to  Dominic  Raymond, 
and  the  succeeding  operation  was  even  more 
effective. 

"Ach,  the  mother-heart!"  said  Brachstein. 

"Achf  the  mother-hand!"  repeated  Scherm- 
Weinhausen.  "It  is  a  pity  we  must  leave  to 
day.  We  have  been  happy." 

After  breakfast  the  professors  packed  their 
bags ;  their  trunks  were  already  on  the  way  to 
the  steamer.  Brachstein,  looking  out  of  his 
window,  saw  a  tall,  spare  young  man  with  gold- 
rimmed  spectacles  and  long  legs  suddenly  ap 
pear  from  the  lane  and  put  his  arms  about  Ro 
salia,  who  had  been  narrowly  examining  the 
young  grape-vines. 

Brachstein  called  to  Scherm-Weinhausen  to 
197 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

witness  the  moving  sight.     They  both  sighed. 

"Ach,"  Brachstein  said,  "if  the  Herr  Doctor 
Wetherill  was  not  a  specialist  in  physiological 
psychology,  we  might  have  suggested  him  for 
sociology  at  Schleswigstein." 

"She  would  be  a  good  example  for  our 
female  youth,"  said  Scherm-Weinhausen,  with 
a  kind  of  divine  despair ;  and  they  watched  the 
lovers. 

"Guy !"  said  Rosalia —  "oh,  Guy !  I  have  been 
so  lonely!  But  why  did  you  come?  I  don't 
deserve  it.  A  minute  ago  there  seemed  noth 
ing  in  life  for  me." 

Guy  looked  proudly  down  upon  her. 

"We  two,  we  two — and  what 's  the  world  ?" 

"Will  you  always  think  that?" 

"To  be  sure!"  he  said  ecstatically. 

"If  I  had  been  more  worthy,  if  I  had  been 
more  like  the  others — oh,  Guy,  I  have  failed 
you,  I  have  failed  you,  and  I  can  never  be 
worthy  of  you !  I  wish — and  I  hope  you  '11 

198 


THE  SECLUSION  OF  ROSALIA 

understand,  dear — that  we  could  get  away 
from  here."  She  paused  for  a  moment,  and  he 
looked  disquieted,  and  then  she  added,  with 
the  old  decision  that  had  deserted  her  of  late : 
"Guy,  I  must  go  abroad — I  must  have  my 
chance  to  learn  things  those  other  women 
know.  Why,  they  laughed — I  know  they  did 
— at  my  German !" 

He  did  not  answer  in  words.  After  a  time 
he  said,  "You  are  foolish  dear;  you  are  too 
humble." 

She  sighed  and  shook  her  head. 

"Later,"  he  said.  "There  is  no  chance  at 
present." 

She  sighed  again. 

"It  is  a  blessed  sight!"  said  Brachstein. 
"Let  us  see  that  the  beloved  children  of  their 
heart  are  with  them  at  this  moment." 

Scherm-Weinhausen  nodded.  He  went  out 
upon  the  rickety  gallery,  where  the  Maginnis 
children  were  now  playing,  and  seized  the 

199 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

amazed  Mary  and  Thomas  Francis  Meagher. 
Brachstein  followed  with  Dominic  Raymond. 
Maginnis,  leaning  on  his  spade  in  the  shade  of 
the  oaks,  watched  this  scene.  Rosalia  and 
Wetherill  were  in  an  atmosphere  of  all  delight. 

Scherm-Weinhausen  thrust  the  two  children 
forward,  while  Brachstein  tried  to  force  Dom 
inic  Raymond  into  WetheriU's  arms. 

"O  friend  of  my  youth,"  Scherm-Wein 
hausen  exclaimed,  "I  welcome  thee !  And  now 
let  the  children  of  thy  heart  greet  thee !" 

"Good  morning,"  aaid  Wetherill,  rather 
stiffly.  "I  did  not  know  that  you  were  here." 
And  then  he  noticed  with  amazement  the  strug 
gling  Maginnis  infants. 

"Thou  art  fortunate  in  thy  wife  and  thy 
children,"  said  Brachstein.  "We  have  been  of 
thy  household.  We  wished  that  thy  children 
should  share  in  thy  happiness." 

Rosalia,  who  did  not  in  the  least  understand, 
frowned  slightly. 

200 


tr 

<^T 


THE  SECLUSION  OF  ROSALIA 

"Whose  children  ?"  asked  Wetherill,  stunned. 

Maginnis  came  forward  hastily.  What  had 
been  said,  he  did  not  know;  but  his  artistic 
soul  whispered  to  him  that  it  was  time  for  a 
climax. 

"The  buggy  is  waitin',"  he  said ;  "your  bags 
are  in  it.  Sure,  you  '11  be  late  if  you  don't  go." 

The  puzzled  professors  dropped  the  children, 
turned,  and  said  farewell  in  German.  "The 
Herr  Doctor  Wetherill  is  mad,"  said  Brach- 
stein. 

"He  is  mad,"  said  Scherm-Weinhausen. 

Wetherill  turned  angrily  to  Maginnis, 
whose  soft  brown  eyes,  full  of  reproach,  met 
his. 

"What  does  this  mean,  sir?  Father  Blod- 
gett  has  told  me  before  this  of  your  outra 
geous — " 

"Stop,  doctor,"  said  Maginnis,  meekly. 
"Don't  say  anything  you  may  be  sorry  for. 
You  are  a  gentleman,  or  I  'd  never  have  lent 
'3  203 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

my  own  children  to  you.  D'  ye  mind  that 
now?  I'll  say  no  more." 

And  Maginnis  walked  over  to  the  potato 
patch,  with  the  halo  of  martyrdom  over  his 
head. 

"'T  was  fine  while  it  lasted,"  he  said,  an  ar 
tistic  glow  in  his  soul ;  "and  if  he 's  missed 
spoilin'  the  Dutch  and  gettin'  his  fees  among 
the  foreigners,  it  is  not  my  fault.  Rosalia 
O'Keefe  is  only  a  Tip,  after  all.  But,"  he  re 
sumed,  "if  ever  I  did  a  good  turn,  even  to  the 
length  of  sacrificin'  my  own  innocent  children, 
this  was  one — may  the  saints  forgive  me! 
I  '11  never  tell  anybody  but  Mary  Ann.  Och !" 
and  he  chuckled  until  the  spade  in  his  hands 
trembled.  "'T  was  fine  while  it  lasted!" 

In  the  afternoon  of  this  eventful  day  Ma 
ginnis,  at  the  point  of  a  metaphorical  bayonet, 
was  forced  to  make  an  ornate  apologia.  For 
others  it  would  have  been  an  embarrassing 

204 


THE  SECLUSION  OF  ROSALIA 

confession;  for  him  it  was  as  the  act  of  a 
martyr. 

"Is  it  ashamed  of  havin'  such  fine  children 
you'd  be?"  he  asked  at  last;  and  Guy  was 
obliged  to  extenuate  his  own  conduct. 

It  was  not  until  August  that  conscientiously 
written  letters  of  explanation  reached  the  doc 
tors  at  Schleswigstein.  These  learned  men  sat 
in  the  town  concert-garden,  in  the  cool  of  the 
evening,  and  talked  the  matter  over.  They 
were  bewildered,  but  edified. 

"His  well-born  wife  has  the  mother-heart," 
said  Brachstein;  "and  he  is  worthy.  I  am 
thinking." 

"I  have  thought,"  said  Scherm-Weinhausen. 

Brachstein  inadvertently  allowed  the  lid  of 
his  stein  to  remain  up.  By  this  token  his 
friend  knew  that  he  was  indeed  thinking 
deeply. 

"Sociology  is,  after  all,  but  the  highest 
205 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

philosophical  expression  of  physiological  psy 
chology,"  Brachstein  remarked,  when  the  band 
had  played  the  overture  to  "Tannhauser"  and 
a  transcription  based  on  Bach.  "To  write 
such  a  letter  he  must  be  ethical,  and  he  knows 
the  American  tendencies." 

Scherm-Weinhausen  nodded.  "With  such 
a  wife,  he  must  be  ethical.  We  will  recom 
mend  him  to  the  faculty — so?" 

"It  is  done,  then,"  said  Brachstein,  closing 
the  lid  over  his  beer  with  a  click. 

And  so  it  happened  that  Rosalia  had  her 
wish, — the  gods  and  the  Irish  having  fought 
for  her,  as  they  generally  fight  for  a  lady  in 
distress, — and  late  in  September  she  stood,  ex 
pectant,  timid,  triumphant,  on  the  threshold  of 
the  Inn  of  the  Crowned  Eagle,  very  near  the 
famous  university  of-  Schleswigstein,  to  the 
precincts  of  which  her  husband  had  recently 
been  invited. 


206 


VI 

THE  HONOR  OF  MAGINNIS 

THE  deep  red  of  the  Virginia  creeper, 
through  which  the  mellow  light  of  an 
afternoon  late  in  the  autumn  glowed, 
was  reflected  on  the  carefully  scrubbed  floor 
of  the  parlor  of  St.  Kevin's  rectory.     This  was 
Father  Blodgett's  study  and  office.     Magin- 
nis,    who    was    again    his    sexton,    had    just 
brought  to  him  a  list  of  the  pew-holders. 

"T  is  worse  nor  a  mixed  marriage!"  ex 
claimed  Maginnis,  desirous  that  the  rector 
should  cease  reading  and  lighten  the  hour  with 
conversation.  "I  wonder  the  bishop  allows  it. 
T  is  a  crime!" 

Father  Blodgett  raised  his  eyes  to  Magin- 
nis's  face  in  an  absent-minded  way. 

207 


THE  WILES  OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"Maginnis,"  he  answered,  with  a  note  of  un 
usual  sharpness  in  his  voice,  "I  Ve  taken  you 
back  on  your  solemn  promise  that  you  'd  tell 
the  truth,  keep  your  word,  and  not  exagger 
ate." 

Maginnis  toyed  with  his  disheveled  straw 
hat,  and  sighed.  Father  Blodgett  was  moved 
by  the  sigh.  Maginnis  felt  this,  and  went  on : 

"Little  Ellen  Reilly — she  was  like  an  angel 
when  the  Sodality  played  in  'The  Lady  of 
Lyons' — has  made  up  her  mind  to  marry  John 
Moldonovo." 

Father  Blodgett  smiled. 

"Good!"  he  said.  "She  's  a  nice  girl,  and  I 
know  John  to  be  fair  and  square.  I  'm  glad 
to  hear  it,  Maginnis." 

Maginnis  stood  as  if  turned  to  stone;  even 
his  struggling  beard  seemed  to  grow  rigid. 

"He 's  a  dago,"  he  articulated  at  last — 
"dago  I — a  spalpeen  of  an  Eye-talian!" 

208 


THE  HONOR  OF  MAGINNIS 

"A  very  respectable  American  of  Italian 
descent/'  said  Father  Blodgett;  "with  sound 
ideas  on  civic  virtue,  I  find.  What 's  the  mat 
ter  with  him?" 

"He  wants  to  marry  Reilly's  daughter,  and 
his  father,  who  has  grown  rich  sellin'  chickens 
to  the  poor  and  takin'  the  bread  out  of  decent 
men's  mouths,  is  going  to  run  him  for  mayor. 
Of  course  he  has  n't  the  ghost  of  a  show,  for 
every  Kerry  man,  and  even  the  Tips,  are 
against  him ;  but  he  '11  vote  all  the  dagos  and 
nagurs  in  town,  if  he  does  be  let.  When  Reilly 
found  out  that  the  dago  was  waitin'  on  little 
Ellen,  he  acted  like  a  man  beside  himself.  'I  '11 
not  give  him  up !'  says  little  Ellen ;  'but  I  '11  wait 
until  he  's  mayor  of  Bracton,  and  then  I  '11  be 
married  from  my  father's  house!'  It  almost 
broke  Reilly's  heart  to  hear  them  words,"  con 
tinued  Maginnis,  not  noticing  that  Father 
Blodgett  was  lost  in  the  list.  "  If  the  dago 
209 


THE  WILES  OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

is  elected,  you  can  have  him, — my  word  on  it!' 
says  Reilly;  'and  I  'm  a  man  of  my  word/  'I  '11 
marry  him  from  my  father's  house,  or  not  at 
all,'  says  the  ungrateful  girl;  and  she'll  dis 
grace  her  family  by  doing  it,  if  she  can.  But 
she  can't,"  added  Maginnis,  "because  honest 
citizens  like  myself  are  against  it." 

"I  was  not  listening, — I  beg  your  pardon," 
Father  Blodgett  said,  laying  down  the  list; 
"but  I  heard  enough  to  know  that  you  are  not 
in  perfect  charity  with  your  neighbors.  You 
must  remember  that  some  of  the  most  glorious 
martyrs,  the  Holy  Father  himself, — "  he  for 
got  himself  in  the  list, — "are  Italians,"  he 
added,  after  a  pause. 

"The  saints  be  between  me  an'  har-r-r-um! 
murmured  Maginnis.  "And  him  a  priest 
speakin'  like  that!  Sure,  't  is  civic  vartue  that 
spoils  even  our  natural  leaders.  But  nary 
a  nagur  or  dago  shall  vote,  if  I  can  prevent  it. 

210 


THE  HONOR  OF  MAGINNIS 

If,"  he  said  aloud,  "you  Ve  nothin'  else  for  me, 
your  reverence,  I  '11  go  now." 

"Oh,  Maginnis,"  said  Father  Blodgett,  rais 
ing  his  head,  "I  am  afraid  of  the  saloons  on 
Election  day.  Their  influence  is  bad  at  all 
times;  but  with  Bracton  crowded  with  voters 
from  Jamesville  and  the  other  suburbs,  there 
will  be  danger  of  grave  sins.  I  am  told  that 
you  are  very  popular.  Do  you  think  that  you 
could  get  up  some  sports  outside  the  town  to 
draw  off  the  crowds?  You  might  manage  a 
tournament,  with  nothing  stronger  than  lemon 
ade;  a  baseball  game, — I  disapprove  of  foot 
ball, —  or  something  of  that  sort.  I  Ve  been 
thinking  this  matter  over.  If  we  had  a  higher 
standard  of  civic  virtue  in  the  council — " 
Father  Blodgett  sighed. 

Maginnis's  face  glowed. 

"You  're  right!"  he  exclaimed;  "'t  is  a  great 
idea, — every  politician  in  town  will  have  to  con- 

211 


THE  WILES  OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

tribute.  Sure,  you  '11  make  enough  to  run  the 
church  for  a  year.  Savin'  your  presence, 
father,"  said  Maginnis,  with  admiration  in 
every  line  of  his  face,  "I  did  n't  think  it  was  in 
you!" 

"You  misunderstand  me,"  said  Father  Blod- 
gett,  flushing  slightly.  "I  was  not  thinking  of 
a  money-making  plan,  but  merely  of  one  to  keep 
the  men  innocently  employed  while  they  're  not 
voting." 

"Glory  be!"  cried  Maginnis.— "There 's 
some  of  them  won't  have  any  time  for  anything 
else,"  he  added,  under  his  breath. 

"Well,"  said  the  rector,  "perhaps  it  is  im 
practical.  I  '11  make  one  last  effort  to  have  the 
council  close  the  saloons." 

"A  picnic,"  reflected  Maginnis,  on  his  way 
home.  "Sure,  he 's  that  innocent !  'T  is  a 
good  idea,"  and  he  chuckled.  "Faith,  we  '11 
give  a  chicken  barbacue  for  the  nagur  an'  Eye- 
talian!" 

212 


THE  HONOR  OF  MAGINNIS 

Frost  had  again  touched  the  hardy  wild 
white  asters  in  the  fields  around  Bracton,  and 
the  bell  for  vespers  seemed  to  be  muffled  by  the 
lazy  autumn  haze,  when  Mrs.  Magee,  her 
green-gloved  hands  tightly  holding  a  purple- 
velvet  prayer-book  with  a  golden  clasp,  bowed 
coldly  to  Reilly  the  blacksmith.  Reilly  was 
standing  on  the  street  corner  nearest  St. 
Kevin's;  he  had  just  parted  from  her  son-in- 
law,  Maginnis. 

Reilly  was  a  big,  raw-boned  man;  his  loud 
and  dominant  voice  was  accentuated  by  a  pro 
nounced  Kerry  brogue.  The  coldness  of  Mrs. 
Magee's  bow — it  was  so  slight  that  the  red 
cherries  in  her  best  bonnet  hardly  stirred  at 
all — was  due  to  an  insult  that  Reilly  had 
"offered"  her  when  they  both  lived  in  the 
bishop's  own  city,  before  the  hegira  of  so  many 
Kerry  people  to  Bracton.  He  had  maliciously 
spread  abroad  the  rumor  that  she  was  a  "Tip" ; 
and  even  that  most  devoted  of  Kerry  women, 

213 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

good  Sister  Margaret,  had  believed  it.  It  is 
true  that  Mrs.  Magee's  mother  had  been  a 
Macgeogeghan  of  the  County  Tipperary,  but 
it  was  not  becoming  for  the  likes  of  Reilly, 
whose  ancestors  were  eating  potato-skins  and 
all  in  darkest  Donegal,  while  hers  on  the  pater 
nal  side  were  respected  citizens  of  Tralee,  with 
lushings  and  leavings  of  pig's  head,  greens, 
and  tea  galore. 

This  was  her  thought — hers,  like  all  great 
minds,  was  given  to  melancholy — as  she  passed 
Maria  Moldonovo,  wife  to  that  Giuseppe  Mol- 
donovo  whose  success  with  the  chicken-farms 
outside  of  Bracton  was  the  theme  of  much  dis 
cussion.  Maria,  a  matron  of  over  fifty,  was 
on  her  way  to  vespers.  Of  late  she  had  dis 
carded  her  long  gold  earrings  and  the  blue 
shawl  for  her  head,  and  achieved  a  crimson  hat 
bearing  a  magenta  plume,  and  a  mauve  gown 
which  made  her  swarthy  complexion  seem 
almost  chocolate-colored.  Mrs.  Magee  gave 

214 


THE  HONOR  OF  MAGINNIS 

Maria  a  very  cold  nod,  too,  though  it  was 
Sunday,  and  she  believed  herself  to  be  at  peace 
with  the  whole  world. 

"Sure,"  Mrs.  Magee  murmured,  "the  Mol- 
donovo  creature  would  look  a  deal  better  with 
a  crazy-quilt  on  her  head,  like  that  ould  hag 
Giulio." 

Julia  Giulio,  her  head  adorned  with  a  red 
and  yellow  shawl,  and  her  big  gold  and  blue 
enamel  earrings  flashing  in  the  afternoon  sun 
light,  entered  the  vestibule  of  the  church,  first 
meekly  dipping  her  right  forefinger  into  the 
holy-water  font,  and  politely  offering  the  sacred 
drops  to  Mrs.  Magee,  who,  with  a  look  of  in 
tense  disapprobation,  plunged  her  hand  full  in 
to  the  lustral  fluid,  and,  making  the  sign  of  the 
cross  with  the  independence  of  proprietorship 
and  the  ease  of  super-civilization,  sprinkled 
sparkling  rain  right  and  left.  She  piously 
doused  the  scarlet  poppies  in  little  Ellen  Reilly's 
new  hat,  and  for  the  moment  closed  the  left 

215 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

eye  of  John  Moldonovo,  who  followed  in  the 
wake  of  the  attractive  Ellen. 

"Little  Ellen  will  marry  the  dago  yet,"  re 
flected  Herself,  with  bitter  satisfaction,  as  she 
fumbled  in  her  capacious  bag  for  her  beads; 
"and  a  girl  that  will  do  that  will  do  anything, 
— and  it 's  her  father,  sure,  that  called  me  a 
Tip!" 

The  stately  current  of  her  thoughts  was 
turned  awry  by  the  appearance  of  her  son-in- 
law  moving  through  the  open  space  within  the 
sanctuary  rails,  and  carrying  an  incense-boat. 
She  looked  scornfully  under  her  eyelids  at  Ma- 
ginnis's  cuffs,  which  projected  elegantly  below 
the  sleeves  of  his  official  frock-coat. 

"'T  would  be  like  him  to  send  his  shirts  to 
the  Chinee!"  she  groaned  mentally,  for  her 
laundry  business  was  dear  to  her  heart. 
"Mary  Ann  could  never  put  that  pagan  gloss — 
which  is  mostly  poison — on  his  cuffs  like  that." 

Little  Ellen  Reilly's  eyes  were  red,  for  there 
216 


THE  HONOR  OF  MAGINNIS 

had  been  a  scene  at  home.  She  inclined  her 
head  gracefully  as  John  Moldonovo  opened  the 
pew  door  for  her,  and  then  became  intent  on 
her  prayers.  Maria  Moldonovo,  observing  all 
this,  cast  a.  look  of  triumph  at  Julia  Giulio, 
whose  eldest  daughter  was  once — before  John 
went  to  the  law  school  in  Washington — sup 
posed  to  have  designs  on  him.  But  the  Giulios 
were  Sicilians,  and  the  Moldonovos  Genoese. 

The  elder  Moldonovo  had  almost  had  an  ap 
oplexy  when  his  son  escorted  Teresita  Giulio 
from  a  church  concert. 

"San  Antonio!"  Moldonovo  had  cried;  "the 
Sicilians  are  brigands;  they  care  not  for  edu 
cation!  And  the  Giulios !"  He  was  usually 
a  quiet  man,  but  he  seemed  to  tear  the  stars 
from  heaven  and  crush  them  between  his  hands 
to  powder.  John  went  to  the  law  school,  and 
when  he  came  home  he  saw  little  Ellen  Reilly 
as  Pauline  in  "The  Lady  of  Lyons."  It  was 
enough. 

217 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

John  was  brown-haired,  black-eyed,  tall  and 
slender, — not  quick  at  all, — and  by  no  means 
of  the  usual  Italian,  type.  He  met  Reilly's 
burst  of  wrath,  when  he  called  on  little  Ellen, 
with  polite  self-respect.  Ellen  was  blond,  ex 
quisitely  graceful,  well  dressed,  and  "accom 
plished/'  She  had  taken  the  medal  for  "vocal" 
at  St.  Rose's  Academy,  and  she  taught  the  five- 
finger  exercises  and  other  melodious  passages 
to  a  half  score  of  young  Bractonites. 

It  was  John  Moldonovo's  opinion  that  par 
ents  had  nothing  to  do  with  marriages.  His 
father's  real-estate  operations  paid  him  good 
commissions,  and  he  had  suggested  immediate 
matrimony ;  but  no !  little  Ellen  was  bent  on  no 
maimed  rites :  there  must  be  a  reception  at  her 
father's  house.  Just  before  little  Ellen  had 
started  for  vespers,  Reilly  had  uttered  sarcastic 
comments  about  John. 

"With  his  waxed  mustache,"  cried  Reilly, 
"and  his-patent  leather  shoes !  And  is  it  mayor 

218 


"Faith,  when  he  's  Mayor  of  Bracton,  you  can  have  him" 


THE  HONOR  OF  MAGINNIS 

of  Bracton  he 's  trying  for  ?  The  whipper- 
snapper  !  He 's  the  laughing-stock  of  every 
man  in  Bracton  that  hates  the  foreigners. 
Faith,  when  he  's  mayor  of  Bracton,  you  can 
have  him!" 

Reilly  roared  until  the  house  seemed  to  shake 
with  sarcastic  mirth. 

Little  Ellen's  eyes  flashed. 

"If  mother  were  alive  you  would  n't  treat 
me  this  way,  father;  but  I  '11  keep  my  word, 
if  you  '11  keep  yours.  I  '11  not  be  married  ex 
cept  from  your  house — and  the  house  that 
mother  worked  for  when  she  lived,"  little  Ellen 
said,  a  break  coming  into  her  voice.  She  was 
thinking  of  all  this  as  she  bent  her  head  while 
the  organ  rolled  and  vespers  began  at  St. 
Kevin's. 

John  Moldonovo,  watching  her  gradually 
lose  herself  in  prayer,  turned  over  in  his  mind 
schemes  for  blasting  the  hopes  of  his  adver 
saries, — very  ineffectually,  he  admitted,  as  he 

14  221 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

awoke  from  his  dreams  and  the  chorus  of  voices 
in  the  organ  gallery  finished  the  last  "Gloria." 

Mrs.  Magee,  observing  that  Maginnis  joined 
Reilly  on  the  street  corner,  took  the  trolley-car 
going  toward  Brierly  for  a  hasty  visit  to  her 
daughter  Mary  Ann.  Little  Ellen  Reilly,  dis 
missing  John  Moldonovo  at  the  church  door, 
hastened  to  join  her.  Little  Ellen  felt  that 
prayer  had  inspired  her. 

Mrs.  Magee  was  rather  haughty  in  her 
manner  toward  little  Ellen  at  first;  but,  as 
they  were  the  only  occupants  of  the  car,  the 
small  blond  maiden  soon  found  an  opportunity 
to  pour  her  tale  into  Mrs.  Magee's  ear, 
which  heard  with  delight  that  there  might  be 
a  chance  of  circumventing  her  traducer,  the 
same  Reilly.  Before  the  pair  reached  the  road 
that  led  to  Brierly  lane,  Mrs.  Magee  had  de 
termined  to  throw  away  all  racial  prejudices 
and  help  to  marry  Reilly's  daughter  to  a  dago, 
if  she  could. 

222 


THE  HONOR  OF  MAGINNIS 

When,  on  her  return,  little  Ellen  dropped 
from  the  car  at  the  corner  of  the  street  in  which 
her  father  lived,  John  Moldonovo  was  waiting 
for  her. 

"Little  Rose!"  he  said,  with  a  soft  cadence 
which  alien  influences  were  driving  from  his 
speech — "little  Rose !  a  time  will  come  when  I 
shall  not  sneak  to  your  father's  door;  let  us 
make  it  now.  We  can  marry  at  once." 

"No,"  said  little  Ellen,  firmly,  though  her 
hand  upon  his  arm  trembled.  "People  would 
think  you  were  afraid  of  the  result  of  the  elec 
tion.  Father  has  dared  you  to  win  the  election 
and  marry  me  at  the  same  time.  Father  is  a 
natural  politician,  and  he  's  got  Maginnis  with 
him.  It  will  be  hard ;  but  we  '11  have  to  beat 
him  first — then  I  '11  forgive  him.  Mary  Ann 
Maginnis  is  with  us.  I  Ve  won  her  over,  and 
if  you  can  gain  over  a  man's  wife"  you.'ve  won 
half  the  battle." 

"I  believe  it,"  said  John  Moldonovo,  looking 
223 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

at  Ellen  and  the  moonlight  at  the  same  time, 
and  roused  to  enthusiasm  by  both. 

"We  must  win/'  said  Ellen,  giving  her  little, 
white-gloved  hand  to  Moldonovo.  "It  will  be 
a  fair  fight."  And  she  raised  her  head  proudly 
in  the  American  fashion. 

The  street  door  half  opened  and  a  roar  of 
barbaric  laughter  came  out. 

"It  will  be  a  fair  fight,  little  Ellen,  and  let 
the  best  man  win!"  said  Reilly's  voice. 

"There  are  times,"  Maginnis  remarked  when 
he  had  settled  himself  in  the  glowing  kitchen  of 
Brierly  before  a  pile  of  buttered  toast,  "when 
principle  is  everything.  I  know  just  how 
Reilly  feels,  as  if  't  was  my  own  child  that 's 
marryin'  beneath  her." 

"As  if  Reilly's  child  could  marry  beneath 
her!"  said  Mary  Ann,  fanning  herself  with 
her  apron,  *  for  she  had  been  making  the 
toast. 

"And  him  calling  my  own  mother  out  of  her 
224 


THE  HONOR  OF  MAGINNIS 

name!"  Mary  Ann  added,  thinking  of  the  re 
cent  conversation  with  that  lady. 

"True  for  you !"  said  Maginnis,  helping  him 
self  to  another  slice  of  toast,  and  closing  the 
eye  farthest  from  Mary  Ann.  "It 's  not 
Reilly's  feelin's  I  'm  thinkin'  of, — for  I  can't 
afford  to  let  my  heart  go  into  politics, — but 
it 's  of  the  party  that  has  stud  for  liberty,  so 
that  a  time  has  come  when  Brian  Boru  him 
self  would  n't  be  ashamed  to  serve  as  President 
of  the  United  States.  It  has  come  to  this,  and 
I  prophesy,"  continued  Maginnis,  raising  his 
hand  to  heaven,  "that  some  jintlemen  at  Wash 
ington  will  be  replaced  by  real  men  who  won't 
waste  all  their  time  on  American  affairs,  but 
give  a  helpin'  hand  to  prostrate  Ireland." 

"Principle!"  broke  in  Mary  Ann,  "what's 
principle  to  do  with  politics  ?" 

Maginnis  lowered  his  voice  to  a  whisper. 
"T  is  well,  Mary  Ann,"  he  said,  "that  you  've 
sent  the  childer  to  bed.  I  would  n't  have  them 

225 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

hear  such  words  from  their  mother  for  the 
wide  world.  'Daniel  O'Connell  himself  would 
n't  blush  to  find  himself  on  the  same  ticket  as 
Joseph  O'Keefe,'  said  Reilly  to  me  to-day. 
What 's  behind  that  but  principle  ?" 

Maginnis  saw  by  Mary  Ann's  look  that  she 
was  not  sympathetic.  "She  's  growin'  like 
Herself!"  he  thought.  "You  want  me  to  go 
against  Reilly,  I  see,  Mary  Ann;  but  my  honor 
is  pledged.  Sure,  changin'  my  party  princi 
ples  would  be  like  changin'  my  religion.  'T  is 
an  apostate  I  'd  be.  I  'd  be  little  better  than  a 
souper.  Mary  Ann — Mary  Ann,"  he  said, 
throwing  as  much  pathos  into  his  voice  as  he 
could  with  his  mouth  full,  "is  it  destroyin'  my 
honor  you  'd  be  ?" 

"You  're  very  firm,  Maginnis,"  said  Mary 
Ann. 

"I  'm  a  rock,"  said  Maginnis.  "Reilly  met 
me  goin'  to  vespers,  and  gave  me  the  Kerry 
'Sentinel.'  'T  was  like  bein'  at  home  again, 

226 


;Is  it  destroy-in'  my  honor  you  'd  be?  " 


THE  HONOR  OF  MAGINNIS 

to  see  all  the  Tralee  names  in  its  col-umns. 
'You  '11  take  the  nagurs  and  the  dagos  for  a 
picnic  out  to  Moldonovo's  chicken-farm  in  the 
afternoon/  says  he.  "T  will  be  a  bit  of  recre 
ation  for  our  people,  as  you  said/  and  he 
winked ;  'and  we  '11  carry  everything  for 
O'Keefe/  'In  the  interest  of  civic  vartue.' 
says  I.  There's  danger/  says  he.  'How?' 
says  I.  'Sure,  we  've  never  had  anny  opposi 
tion  before.  This  time/  says  he,  'the  Eye-tal- 
ians  will  vote  with  the  nagurs  for  Moldonovo. 
If  there  's  a  political  menace  to  the  country/ 
says  he,  "t  is  the  dago.  The  nagurs  can  be 
managed/  says  he,  'by  strategy/  says  he,  'and 
they  never  had  a  chance  here  to  be  destructive 
to  the  ballot/  says  he.  'Do  you  think  you  can 
get  them  out  of  the  way  until  the  polls  close?' 
'I  can/  says  I — 'I  can.'  'And  you  '11  call  it  a 
chicken  barbacue/  says  he,  laughin'.  And  I 
split  my  sides,  Mary  Ann.  In  a  few  days  there 
won't  be  a  colored  man,  woman,  or  child  that 

229 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

won't  know  there  's  to  be  a  chicken  barbacue 
at  Moldonovo's  farm.  The  dagos  will  all  be 
in  Br acton  to  vote  at  noon.  The  trolley-cars 
will  be  runnin'  out,  five  minutes  apart,  until  one 
o'clock — O'Keefe  's  vice-president  of  the  com 
pany — but  at  one  o'clock  the  power  will  give 
out,  and  there  '11  be  no  cars  comin'  back  till 
after  the  polls  close.  Moldonovo  is  to  give  a 
big  meal  to  the  dagos  at  twelve  o'clock  before 
they  vote;  but  just  as  they're  sittin'  down  to 
their  macaroni  and  red  ink  they  '11  hear  that  the 
nagurs  are  among  the  chickens,  and  off  they  '11 
go  by  the  first  trolley — and  divil  a  wan  will  go 
back !  There  '11  be  a  beggarly  vote  for  Moldo 
novo."  Maginnis  uttered  an  arpeggio  of 
chuckles,  but  Mary  Ann  did  not  respond. 

"Maginnis,"  she  said,  "you  Ve  no  heart. 
You  're  all  principle." 

"I  am,"  said  Maginnis,  with  a  look  modeled 
on  the  smoked  picture  of  Byron's  "Corsair" 
over  the  fireplace,  "when  my  honor  's  engaged. 

230 


1 

8- 

o 


THE  HONOR  OF  MAGINNIS 

Father  Blodgett  gev  me  a  great  song-and-dance 
yesterday  about  honor." 

"Little  Ellen  was  here,  as  pale  as  a  ghost," 
said  Mary  Ann,  folding  up  her  apron  and  giv 
ing  Maginnis  his  pipe.  "  'Maginnis/  says  she, 
'has  a  heart,  a  noble  heart,  but  he  's  my  father's 
slave/  " 

"She  said  that?"  asked  Maginnis,  in  a  trucu 
lent  voice. 

"  'I  'm  a  free-born  American/  said  she,  'and 
I  '11  marry  the  man  of  my  choice,  as  you  mar 
ried  the  man  of  yours,  Mrs.  Maginnis/  said  she. 
°T  is  John  Moldonovo/  said  she,  flushing  like 
a  piny;  'he  's  as  good  as  I  am,  and  I'll  not  be 
married  to  him  from  a  hole  and  corner ;  but  it 's 
a  reception  I  '11  be  having  in  my  father's  new 
house  after  the  ceremony  at  high  noon  at  St. 
Kevin's'.  And  she  began  to  cry  until  all  the 
childer  bawled  out  loud  for  company.  'I  know 
that  Maginnis  has  great  influence/  little  Ellen 
went  on,  when  I  'd  given  her  a  drink  of  water, 

233 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

'and  I  said  so  to  father.'  'Maginnis,'  said  he — 
'Maginnis — why,  he  's  only  a  straw  man  in  my 
hands/  'I  '11  appeal  to  Mary  Ann,'  the  poor 
child  said.  Ts  it  his  wife?'  said  Reilly,  with  a 
blood-curdling  laugh ;  'why,  he  's  no  heart !  A 
word  from  me  would  go  a  dozen  times  further 
than  a  hundred  from  her ;  he  's  bound  hand  and 
foot  to' the  party.'  " 

"Ah-a !"  murmured  Maginnis,  forgetting  his 
frown.  "He  said  that!" 

"  To  hear  such  things  about  Maginnis,'  said 
little  Ellen,  pathetic-like,  'almost  turns  me 
against  marriage;  for  to  me  your  husband  has 
always  been  a  model.  But,'  said  she,  'I  reckon 
he  has  feet  of  clay,  like  the  rest  of  them,'  and 
she  sighed  fit  to  break  a  heart  already  bursting. 
'If  Maginnis  is  what  father  says  he  is,  I  '11  die 
an  old  maid,'  said  she,  with  the  tears  on  her 
cheeks." 

"She  said  that,  did  she?"  asked  Maginnis, 
puffing  out  his  chest. 

234 


THE  HONOR  OF  MAGINNIS 

"Something  very  like  it.  And  here  you  're 
making  a  trap  to  defeat  John  Moldonovo, 
who  's  a  thousand  times  better  than  that  clay- 
pipe  Reilly.  You  Ve  no  heart,  Maginnis ;  and 
it 's  sorry  I  am  that  I  ever  left  my  poor  mother 
to  the  cold  winds  of  the  world." 

"Whisper,  Mary  Ann,  whisper!"  Maginnis 
began ;  "my  honor  's  at  stake — the  honor  of  a 
Maginnis." 

Mary  Ann  would  not  listen. 

"You  're  a  slave,  Maginnis !"  she  exclaimed, 
leaving  the  kitchen  with  a  rustle  of  her  Sunday 
silk  gown  that  added  dignity  to  an  effective 
exit.  Maginnis  reflected,  and  the  more  he  re 
flected  the  more  anger  he  felt  against  Reilly. 

"What  is  he,  to  be  comin'  between  man  and 
wife?"  he  asked.  "I  '11  never  go  back  on  my 
word — 't  was  never  heard  that  a  Kerry  man 
would  do  it — but  Reilly  will  see  that  Maginnis 
has  a  heart.  Mary  Ann!  Mary  Ann!"  he 
called. 

237 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

Mary  Ann  was  silent;  and  silence  was  the 
one  thing  in  life,  above  all  others,  that  Magin- 
nis  could  the  least  endure. 

Mary  Ann,  for  the  three  days  before  the 
election,  went  about  her  work  "like  a  dyin'  pic 
ture,"  Maginnis  remarked. 

"I  don't  blame  you,"  she  said  several  times. 
"You  're  not  better  than  other  men."  And 
she  regretted  in  plaintive  tones  that  she  had 
ever  left  a  mother  with  a  heart ! 

"Herself!"  Maginnis  thought,  gnashing  his 
teeth  mentally.  "Herself — such  is  the  delu 
sion  of  female  minds ;  but  we  have  to  live  with 
them,"  he  added  sadly,  "and  the  easiest  way  's 
the  best." 

On  Election  day  the  O'Keefe  faction  in 
Bracton  rejoiced.  Reilly  was  in  high  spirits, 
and  the  betting  was  heavily  against  John  Mol- 
donovo.  Little  Ellen  stayed  at  home :  she  had 
not  sufficient  poise  to  give  her  music-lessons. 

The  day  was  crisp  and  frosty.     All  the  red 

238 


THE  HONOR  OF  MAGINNIS 

was  not  gone  from  the  maples,  and  the  air  of 
Bracton  was  full  of  the  aromatic  scent  of  burn 
ing  leaves.  O'Keefe,  an  expert  manager  of 
his  own  campaign,  went  out  in  three  trolley- 
cars,  with  a  brass  band,  to  bring  in  trium 
phantly  the  voters  from  the  outlying  suburb  of 
Killarney;  and  Reilly,  absolutely  confident  in 
Maginnis's  promise  that  he  would  engage  the 
opposition  at  Moldonovo's  farm,  had  gone  to 
work  the  other  suburb  of  Jamesville,  where 
there  was  a  Donegal  colony  with  very  delicate 
feelings. 

As  soon  as  O'Keefe  and  Reilly  had  depart 
ed — and  this  was  about  nine  o'clock — the  Gen 
oese  and  some  of  the  Sicilians,  as  well  as 
groups  of  colored  folk,  began  to  come  into 
town  earlier  than  Reilly  expected.  The  col 
ored  folk,  under  the  guidance  of  Maginnis,  de 
parted,  to  the  music  of  a  brass  band,  before 
eleven.  The  Italians  remained.  Among  them 
were  a  number  of  Sicilian  tenant-farmers  in 

239 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

the  suburbs,  disliked  heartily  by  the  Genoese 
and  despised  by  all  other  whites  because  they 
hired  out  to  negroes.  As  they  were  about  to 
sit  down  in  Giuseppe  Moldonovo's  warehouse 
to  macaroni  and  red  wine,  one  of  Maginnis's 
acolytes  gave  the  alarm:  "The  nagurs  are 
stealin'  the  chickens!" 

Off  flew  the  Genoese,  with  wrathful  eyes 
and  empty  stomachs,  to  the  waiting  trolley- 
cars.  Reilly,  arriving  at  this  moment  with  his 
group  of  reluctant  voters,  bent  almost  double 
with  laughter. 

"Maginnis,"  he  said,  "you  're  a  broth  of  a 
boy !"  And  he  slapped  him  on  the  back. 

"My  honor  is  sacred,"  said  Maginnis,  with 
dignity ;  "and  you  '11  find,  Reilly,  that  my 
heart 's  in  the  right  place." 

"Maginnis!"  exclaimed  Reilly,  whose  face, 
from  frequent  and  early  libations,  was  as  red 
as  his  crimson  necktie,  "I  owe  it  all  to  you  that 
little  Ellen  hasn't  made  worse  nor  a  mixed 

240 


THE  HONOR  OF  MAGINNIS 

marriage!  And  if  the  place  of  city  clerk 
was  n't  promised  to  another  man,  you  should 
have  it!" 

"I  'm  keepin'  my  word,  that 's  all,"  said  Ma- 
ginnis.  "I  promised  Father  Blodgett  I  'd 
stick  to  the  truth,  and  I  Ve  done  it.  The  da 
gos  and  the  nagurs  are  havin'  their  picnic,  and 
they  can't  get  back  to  town  before  the  polls 
close — and  they  don't  need  to." 

At  eight  o'clock  Reilly  drove  out  in  a  buggy 
to  Brierly,  where  Maginnis  was  quietly  eating 
his  supper.  Reilly  could  hardly  speak;  he 
waved  away  the  chair  Mary  Ann  offered  him. 

"Maginnis,"  he  said,  "do  you  know  the 
vote?" 

"How  should  I?"  asked  Maginnis,  inno 
cently;  "I  've  been  in  the  bosom  of  my  family 
for  an  hour." 

"Moldonovo's  elected  by  a  majority  of  twen 
ty-six!" 

"Glory  be !"  began  Maginnis.  "'T  was  a 
241 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

close  shave.     Them  dirty  Sicilians  did  n't  vote, 
after  all !     It  should  have  been  more." 

"What  did  you  do  with  the  dagos  and  na- 
gurs  ?"  wailed  Reilly.  "I  'm  disgraced !  What 
did  you  do  with  them?" 

"Voted  them  before  they  left  Bracton — 
airly,"  said  Maginnis.  "Sure,  I  kept  my  word ; 
I  gave  them  a  picnic." 

"You  've  disgraced  me !"  said  Reilly. 

"I  kept  my  word,"  said  Maginnis ;  "and  Fa 
ther  Blodgett  will  see  now  that  I  am  all  in  for 
civic  vartue.  Besides,  Reilly — whisper ! — I  Ve 
pleased  Mary  Ann  and  Herself.  The  wo 
men,"  he  added,  lowering  his  voice  still  further, 
"are  a  saycret  society,  and  we  '11  be  on  the  out 
side,  no  matter  what  we  do ;  but,  Reilly,  we  've 
got  to  live  with  them." 

Reilly  bowed  his  head.  In  his  mind's  eye 
he  saw  little  Ellen  walking  down  the  steps  of 
St.  Kevin's  with  a  dago. 


242 


VII 

THE  DESCENT  OF  BLANCHE 

BRACTON,  from  the  point  of  view  of  the 
theatrical  agent,  was  a  "minstrel  town." 
The  only  form  of  amusement,  however, 
that  actually  succeeded  there  was  the  circus. 
An  optimistic  professor  from  Collamore  Col 
lege  had  attempted  a  series  of  popular,  elevat 
ing  lectures,  "New  Lights  on  Napoleon,"  but 
Maginnis,  who  received  a  dollar  for  "usher 
ing,"  was  the  only  male  person  present  except 
the  lecturer.  The  professor  waited  twenty 
minutes,  encouraged  by  Maginnis,  with  the 
hope  that  "another  lady"  was  coming  but  the 
moving  figure  down  the  road  proved  to  be  a 
cow. 

Colonel    Grayson's    daughter    Blanche    be- 
15  243 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

lieved  that  if  the  people  of  Bracton  could  be 
met  on  their  ground,  they  might  be  elevated. 
She  was  still  at  the  new  convent  in  Bracton,  the 
prioress  of  which  was  Mother  Juliet  and  the 
portress  that  Sister  Margaret  who  had  saved 
the  soul  of  Sexton  Maginnis.  She  was  en 
gaged  in  graduate  courses  in  the  philosophy  of 
poetry  (Professor  MacNiall  of  Collamore  Col 
lege,  three  hours  a  week),  and  music  (Sister 
Viola,  sixteen  hours  a  week,  with  a  metronome 
and  soundless  clavier). 

Colonel  Grayson,  a  Maryland  gentleman  of 
the  old  school,  who  had  served  in  the  Confed 
erate  Army  at  a  tender  age,  and  afterwards  in 
the  Papal  Zouaves,  was  the  only  summer  board 
er  at  the  Curtice  Place,  where  Mary  Ann  Ma 
ginnis  was  chatelaine.  He  was  waiting  until 
Blanche  finished  her  education,  to  take  up  his 
residence  in  the  Bishop's  town. 

Blanche  Grayson  held  that  if  you  approached 
the  Italians  of  Bracton  from  the  luminous  Ital- 

244 


THE  DESCENT  OF  BLANCHE 

ian  past,  and  also  appealed  to  the  pride  of  the 
Irish  inhabitants,  you  could  attract  them 
to  high-class  lectures.  Mrs.  Magee  whom 
Blanche  occasionally  consulted  on  the  subject 
of  the  washing  of  lace  shirt  waists,  agreed 
with  her,  and  that  she  was  the  person  to  do 
this. 

"My  heart's  with  any  girl  that  shows  that 
she  don't  have  to  marry,"  said  Mrs.  Magee, 
with  tears  in  her  eyes.  "Look  at  my  own 
Mary  Ann  married  to  that  tyrant  Maginnis !" 

And  then  Blanche  explained  her  plan  to  Mrs. 
Magee,  over  the  counter  of  the  Olympia  Laun 
dry,  while  the  little  lay  Sister  went  off  for  a 
few  minutes  to  the  photographer's. 

The  news  of  Blanche's  plan  reached  Magin 
nis  that  day,  and  in  the  evening  he  spoke  of  it 
to  his  wife. 

"Tis  so,"  said  Mary  Ann;  "I  didn't 
know  whether  it  was  the  truth  or  the  mint  julep 
when  the  Colonel  told  me  this  morning.  It 's 

245 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

a  career  she  wants,  and  not  Benny  Gore,  who 
has  been  waiting  on  her  for  two  years.  When 
she  was  boarding  here  last  summer,  I  knew  he 
was  coming  every  time  I  heard  somebody  sing 
ing  the  old  song,  'Said  the  Rose/  and  she 
seemed  to  like  him  well  enough  then.  But," 
said  Mary  Ann,  with  a  sigh,  "when  a  woman 
marries,  it 's  her  career  she  must  give  up.  Not 
that  I  'm  complaining.  It 's  a  blow  to  the  old 
Colonel  that  she  won't  marry  the  son  of  a  man 
that  saved  his  life  four  times — 't  was  once  when 
I  first  heard  the  story — while  he  was  showing 
the  Virginians  how  to  fight  and  laughing  at  the 
Yankees  for  knowing  no  better  than  to  let  him 
beat  them.  'T  was  he  and  the  Maryland  troops 
did  everything.  Miss  Grayson  gave  my  moth 
er  a  lot  of  the  tickets  for  her  lecture/'  said 
Mary  Ann,  "they  're  to  be  sold  at  the  Olympia 
Laundry.  And  the  mother  says  she  's  right, 
for  if  she  had  another  daughter,  she  'd  not  let 
her  marry ;  and,  if  she  did  marry,  't  would  be 

246 


THE  DESCENT  OF  BLANCHE 

only  to  a  man  that  would  take  the  pledge,"  con 
tinued  Mary  Ann,  innocently. 

"And  so  Herself  is  against  young  Gore?" 
said  Maginnis,  letting  his  pipe  go  out.  "He  's 
a  likely  boy,  frank  and  hearty.  He  's  been  pro 
moted  to  be  first  chemist  at  O'Keefe's.  He  's 
been  after  her  ever  since  she  played  through  a 
whole  dictionary  of  music  at  one  sittin'  at  the 
Sisters'  commencement  two  years  ago.  So 
Herself  's  against  him !  My  heart  goes  out  to 
a  boy  that 's  in  love  with  a  pretty  girl — as  I  am, 
Mary  Ann.  I  hear  that  the  ould  Colonel  says 
he  'd  as  lieve  have  his  daughter  disgrace  herself 
by  takin'  to  the  theatre  as  to  a  career/'  said 
Maginnis,  with  sentiment.  "'T  is  no  wonder  a 
little  young  mint  is  too  much  for  him." 

"I  don't  deny  it 's  hard  on  him,"  agreed 
Mary  Ann.  "She  's  to  sing  and  play  for  the 
Sisters  at  the  May  concert  for  the  last  time." 

"As  an  amachewer,"  said  Maginnis,  nodding 
his  head;  "and  I  hear  the  holy  Sisthers  won't 

247 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

believe  she  's  capable  of  professionalism ;  but 
they  're  not  sure." 

"The  Colonel  went  on  his  knees  to  her,  he 
told  me,"  said  Mary  Ann.  "  'You  're  descend 
ed  from  the  third  Lord  Baltimore/  says  he. 
'No  female  of  our  family  has  ever  brought  us 
to  shame  by  earning  money  in  public/  says  he. 
'It 's  a  blot  on  the  name  of  Grayson/  says  he, 
'for  the  like  of  you  to  go  into  the  temptations  of 
the  public  theater  when  you  Ve  a  father  to  sup 
port  you  and  a  good  husband,  the  last  of  the 
Gores,  a-waitin'  for  you.  A  woman/  says  the 
old  omadhaun,  'ought  never  to  talk  except  in 
her  own  house,  and  mighty  little  then.  There 
is  n't/  says  he,  'another  family  of  our  standing 
in  Maryland  that  won't  look  down  on  us,  and 
there  are  some  folks  on  the  Eastern  Shore/  says 
he,  'that  are  kin  to  your  mother's  family,  who  '11 
crow  to  see  the  name  dragged  in  the  mud/  says 
he."  Mary  Ann  hesitated,  and  added :  "Her- 

248 


THE  DESCENT  OF  BLANCHE 

self  says  that  Blanche  was  going  to  ask  you  to 
help  her,  though/' 

"Herself  advised  her  not  to,  I  suppose,"  said 
Maginnis,  sadly.  "We  '11  see.  I  'm  for  senti 
ment  against  a  career  every  time,"  he  added 
with  unction. 

Blanche's  education,  however,  was,  to  the 
Colonel,  extremely  unsatisfactory.  "Philoso 
phy  of  Poetry!"  he  said  bitterly.  "How  is 
Blanche  ever  goin'  to  marry  a  gentleman  that 
respects  himself,  if  she  knows  more  than  he 
does?  My  Lord,"  he  solemnly  added  to  the 
Bishop — he  was  most  careful  to  observe  all 
forms,  and  it  was  a  lesson  in  deportment  to  see 
him  backing  out  of  a  room  before  a  church  dig 
nitary — "If  I  had  sent  her  to  a  poor  white-trash 
school,  where  they  believe  in  female  clubs,  she 
could  n't  be  more  of  a  New  Woman.  She 
wants  to  lecture  for  a  livin',  and  I  reckon  no 
power  on  earth  will  stop  her.  And  Benny 

249 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

Gore,  by  gad !  the  finest  gentleman  in  Maryland, 
just  waitin'  to  kiss  the  tracks  that  little  girl  of 
mine  makes  in  the  grass !  And  the  worst  of  it 
is,"  concluded  the  Colonel,  "that  the  nuns  don't 
take  the  view  of  education  they  used  to.  A  fe 
male  needs  the  gentler  arts,  not  economics  and 
fol-de-rols  of  that  sort." 

Occasionally  the  Colonel  paid  a  formal  visit 
to  the  convent.  He  was  grizzled,  red,  thin,  and 
aquiline,  and  one  day  when,  chivalrous,  though 
fierce-looking,  he  was  affrighting  the  circle  of 
Sisters  gathered  in  the  parlor  with  stories  of 
the  prowess  of  the  Marylanders  in  the  war  and 
of  his  own  prowess  at  the  Porta  Pia,  the  Bishop, 
coming  to  make  his  call,  named  him  "Cyrano 
de  Bergerac."  It  was  on  this  day  that  the  Col 
onel,  clinging  to  the  Bishop,  begged  him  to  in 
terfere  to  save  Blanche  from  a  career.  And 
the  Bishop  had  laughed,  and  recommended  Ma- 
ginnis  as  "the  Mercury  of  these  parts."  The 
Colonel  sighed,  and  broke  forth  in  denuncia- 

250 


THE  DESCENT  OF  BLANCHE 

tions  of  the  New  Woman  and  the  New  South 
that  were  almost  as  lyrical  as  anything  Cyrano 
could  have  done. 

On  the  day  of  the  May  concert  at  the  con 
vent,  the  great  function  of  the  year,  the  Colonel 
called  early,  to  offer  his  services.  There  was  a 
load  on  his  mind.  Blanche  was  obdurate,  the 
Bishop  indifferent,  the  Sisters  sympathetic,  and 
Sexton  Maginnis  uncertain.  The  Colonel  had 
resolved  to  leave  the  city  for  a  week,  that  he 
might  not  be  forced  to  hear  of  the  descent  of 
Blanche.  Sister  Margaret,  the  portress,  ad 
mitted  him  to  the  trim  parlor,  and  he  was  very 
courteous.  Although  not  of  this  world,  Sister 
Margaret  had  a  keen  eye  for  the  "grand  man 


ner." 


"He  's  a  fine  figure  of  a  man,"  she  said  to 
herself  as  she  placed  Milner's  "End  of  Contro 
versy"  on  the  marble-topped  table,  that  he 
might  edify  himself  for  a  while,  "and  he  'd 
make  a  great  bishop,  only,  sure,  he  could  n't  af- 

251 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

ford  to  have  such  good  manners  then;  that 
would  be  spoiling  the  people  entirely.  The  rev 
erend  mother/'  she  said  aloud,  "will  be  here  in 
a  moment,  Colonel,  and  your  daughter,  too ;  but 
you  can't  see  her  long,  for  she  's  on  the  pro 
gram  early  and  late  in  the  concert-room  be 
yond." 

As  the  Colonel  sighed,  there  was  perfume  of 
young  mint — to  put  it  delicately — in  the  air. 
Going  out,  Sister  Margaret  met  the  delicate, 
black-eyed  Sister  Viola  in  the  vestibule. 

"Oh,  Sister  Margaret,"  she  said  anxiously, 
"has  the  boy  brought  the  piano  parts  of  the 
'Pilgrims'  Chorus'  yet?" 

She  caught  sight  of  the  roll,  and  darted  at 
it  with  the  rapidity  of  a  swallow.  A  square 
piece  of  card-board  on  the  little  stand  fell  to  the 
ground,  and  before  she  could  pick  it  up,  the 
Colonel,  who  had  observed  her  from  the  parlor, 
stepped  forward,  with  a  low  bow,  and  lifted  it. 

252 


There  's  no  use  of  my  waiting  to  see  Mother  Juliet  now" 


THE  DESCENT  OF  BLANCHE 

The  printed  side  was  upward,  and  he  read  al 
most  unconsciously, 

"Bracton  Town  Hall,  May  28,  1902, 

at  eight  o'clock. 

Lecture :     The  Domination  of  the  Celt  in 
Literature.' 

by 

An  Ex-Pupil  of  the  Convent  of  the  Seraphim, 
Tickets,  fifty  cents,  admitting  two." 

He  dropped  the  odious  thing  upon  the 
table. 

"Well,  it 's  no  use,"  he  said;  "there  's  no  use 
of  my  waiting  to  see  Mother  Juliet  now;  that 
frantic  daughter  of  mine  has  determined  to  ruin 
the  family  name.  Present  my  regards  to  the 
reverend  mother,  and  please  say  that  I  have  left 
the  city  more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger." 

And  he  bowed  himself  out. 

"Dear  me!"  said  Sister  Viola,  sniffing.  "I  'm 
255 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

afraid  the  Colonel — I  hope  none  of  the  visitors 
will  notice — the  odor." 

Sister  Margaret  looked  sadly  at  Sister  Viola, 
whom  she  respected  only  as  an  academic  per 
son. 

"If  you  were  a  married  woman,  faith/'  she 
said,  "you  'd  know  better  than  to  find  fault  with 
a  real  gentleman  for  taking  a  drop  in  modera 
tion.  It 's  well  that  you  're  not  in  the  world, 
Sister.  Sure,"  she  added  to  herself,  "it 's  little 
humanity  these  learned  Sisters  have  in  their 
hearts  at  all ;  but  perhaps  it 's  the  country.  In 
Kerry  it 's  small  respect  we  have  for  the  man 
so  weak  in  the  head  that  he  can't  take  his  drop 
at  the  right  time." 

Sister  Viola  looked  horrified,  and  hastened 
away  from  the  obnoxious  scent,  with  her  pre 
cious  roll  in  her  hand,  to  hear  Blanche  conquer 
the  last  five  bars  in  the  "Shower  of  Pearls," 
which  was  to  follow  her  chef  d'auvre,  the  "Bal 
lade  in  A  Flat  Major."  After  this  Sister  Vi- 

256 


THE  DESCENT  OF  BLANCHE 

ola,  distracted  and  more  swallow-like  than  ever, 
tried  to  induce  the  quartette  to  let  Blanche  fin 
ish  her  solo,  "Said  the  Rose/'  and  not  begin 
"Maryland,  my  Maryland"  six  bars  ahead  of 
time.  As  the  quartette,  composed  of  small 
girls,  always  strayed  from  the  key  as  soon  as 
Sister  Viola  ceased  to  look  at  them,  she  had  lit 
tle  time  to  give  to  the  second  violin,  whose  left 
slipper  was  a  bad  fit,  or  to  discover  whether  the 
smallest  Capillo  child,  who  was  to  perform  in 
an  arrangement  of  "Listen  to  the  Mocking- 
Bird"  (for  six  hands,  which  were  nearly  all 
thumbs),  had  really  swallowed  a  fly  or  not. 
Then  Marie  McGucken,  who  was  to  scatter  bril 
liant  arpeggios  from  the  harp,  broke  two 
strings  of  that  capricious  instrument. 

At  last,  during  a  respite  of  half  an  hour  be 
fore  even  the  earliest  guest  should  arrive,  Sis 
ter  Viola,  pale,  exhausted,  anxious  about  more 
things  than  the  industrious  Martha  ever 
dreamed  of,  propped  herself  against  her  em- 
257 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

broidered  pillows — the  gifts  of  beloved  and  ab 
sent  pupils — on  the  sofa  in  her  music-room. 
Blanche  Grayson  adjusted  herself  on  the  piano 
stool.  She  was  a  slender  girl,  not  very  tall, 
with  a  varying  rose  tint  in  her  face,  a  dimple 
in  her  left  cheek,  and  the  air  of  a  fawn  that  had 
just  settled  a  vexed  question.  As  a  "post 
graduate,"  she  was  permitted  to  wear  a  train, 
which  was  of  soft  white  stuff  that  did  not  rus 
tle  ;  a  few  spangles  scattered  on  the  bertha  were 
likewise,  allowed  her  because  of  her  eminence. 
Her  wide-open  dark-gray  eyes,  which  were  vio 
let  when  they  were  not  so  wide  open,  were 
fixed  on  Sister  Viola's  ivory-toned  face. 

"Perhaps/'  Blanche  said  reflectively,  "if  I 
were  a  Virginia  girl,  and  had  been  engaged  a 
great  many  times,  I  should  find  it  easier  to  give 
up  Benny  Gore.  Oh,  Sister,  do  not  imagine — 
you,  who  know  me  so  well — that  I  have  not 
suffered  in  choosing  between  him  and  my  ca 
reer — I  may  say,  my  vocation." 

258 


THE  DESCENT  OF  BLANCHE 

Sister  Viola  was  thinking  of  the  harp- 
strings,  and  she  made  a  mechanical  sign  of  as 
sent. 

"I  have  settled  it  my  own  way;  forgive  me, 
Sister,  for  not  accepting  the  path  of  the  shel 
tered  life." 

"Bessie  Hinkson  is  always  flat  in  the  'Mel 
ody  in  F,'  "  murmured  Sister  Viola,  permitting 
Blanche  to  clasp  her  right  hand,  "I  must  look 
after  her  E  string." 

"Listen,"  said  Blanche,  emphatically,  "I 
have  found  my  metier  under  the  influence  of 
Professor  MacNiall's  lectures.  I  have  traced 
the  influence  of  the  Celt  on  our  literature,  and 
I  am  going  to  expose — with  the  assistance  of 
Professor  MacNiall's  notes — the  fallacies  of 
the  Anglo-Saxon.  I  shall  speak  at  the  Bracton 
Town  Hall  on  the  twenty-eighth.  I  shall  do 
some  good.  It 's  a  popular  view;  it 's  ideal." 

"Not  in  public,  Blanche,  surely!"  exclaimed 
Sister  Viola,  awakening. 

259 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"Why  not?  And,  you  know,  Bracton  is  not 
so  public ;  it 's  a  little  place.  And  of  course 
it 's  not  a  center  of  culture,  like  Richmond  or 
Baltimore ;  but  I  Ve  friends  there,  and  I  shall 
make  it  all  very  simple,  at  the  same  time  phil 
osophical.  It  will  be  what  Professor  Mac- 
Niall  calls  'haute  vulgarization.'  If  I  get 
good  notices  in  the  local  papers,  it  will  help 
me.  Mrs.  Magee — dear,  motherly  woman — 
is  to  assist  with  the  tickets.  And — "  Blanche 
reddened — "that  hateful  Benny  Gore  dared  me 
to  do  it." 

"Oh,  Blanche,  what  will  Mother  Juliet  say?" 
"She  knows,"  said  Blanche;  "and  she  was 
awfully  medieval  about  it,  and  then  she  said 
she  hoped  I  would  n't  catch  cold,  and  was  glad 
that  I  am  going  to  stay  with  such  kind-hearted 
people  as  the  Maginnises.  As  to  father,"  ex 
claimed  Blanche,  "he  '11  come  around  all  right 
when  the  press  rings  with  my  fame,  and  I  earn 

260 


THE  DESCENT  OF  BLANCHE 

some  money.  I  'm  sick  of  being  only  part  of  a 
dead  family;  I  'm  tired  of  being  descended 
from  the  third  Lord  Baltimore — I  wonder  how 
my  ancestors  managed  to  skip  the  fourth. 
Perhaps,  if  I  had  n't  heard  so  much  of  father's 
family,  I  might  want  to  have  one  of  my  own." 

"Blanche!" 

Blanche  tightened  her  lips. 

"If  you  went  in  for  music,  it  might  be  dif 
ferent,"  said  Sister  Viola ;  "but  I  think  you  're 
very  foolish  to  give  up  a  good  young  man,  like 
Mr.  Gore,  for  the  lecture-field,  as  I  Ve  heard 
you  call  it.  If  a  girl  has  n't  a  vocation,  she 
ought  to  marry — there  's  that  Bessie  Hinkson 
flat  again!"  Sister  Viola  murmured,  as  a  wail 
rent  the  air.  "A  great  consolation  in  convent- 
school  life,"  added  Sister  Viola,  with  a  mo 
ment's  gentle  bitterness,  "is  that  the  stupid 
girls  you  have  to  teach  are  no  kin  to  you. 
Don't  be  silly,  Blanche.  Marry,  as  you  can't 
16  261 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

be  a  nun.  I  hear  that  Mr.  Gore  does  n't  drink, 
and  Sister  Margaret  says — oh,  there  's  that  E 
string  again !  I  must  go !" 

Left  alone,  Blanche  drew  herself  to  her  full 
height,  and  kicked  out  her  train. 

"I  wonder  if  Benny  Gore  will  come  to  the 
concert/'  she  thought.  "The  first  time  he  saw 
me  I  sang,  'Said  the  Rose/  '  She  hummed: 

"  'I  am  weary  of  the  Garden/ 

Said  the  Rose; 
'For  the  winter  winds  are  sighing.' " 

She  stopped,  feeling  very  unphilosophical  for 
a  moment.  "Loin  du  Bal"  sounded  finally 
from  one  of  the  piano  closets,  interrupted  by  a 
bell  which  called  all  the  performers  to  the  ante 
room  adjoining  the  place  of  the  concert. 
There  clouds  of  white  muslin  and  blue  ribbons 
awaited  the  beginning  of  the  overture  to 
"Semiramide"  (for  four  pianos).  The  rustle 
of  programs  and  the  swishing  of  petticoats 

262 


THE  DESCENT  OF  BLANCHE 

told  that  unseen  auditors  were  arriving  in 
large  numbers.  Sister  Viola,  loved  by  the 
school,  and  not  at  all  feared,  was  welcomed 
with  subdued  applause.  Every  girl  drew  on 
her  gloves  at  once,  the  pianists  allowing 
theirs  to  dangle  elegantly  from  their  wrists. 
Judith  Silberstein,  who  was  to  "do"  Chopin, 
sola,  hastily  hid  a  pair  of  jingling  bracelets 
under  her  sleeves,  visible  jewelry  being  forbid 
den. 

"Sister,"  whispered  Blanche,  tremulously, 
"I  'm  afraid  I  can't  go  on.  It 's  my  last  ap 
pearance  in  a  May  concert,  and  if  he  should  be 
here"— 

Blanche  knew  very  well  that  she  was  the 
"star"  of  the  occasion.  Sister  Viola  sup 
pressed  an  impatient  speech.  Judith  Silber 
stein  had  heard  the  whisper.  She  was  not  to 
be  outdone ;  to  be  sure,  she  could  have  no  train 
or  spangles,  but  she  had  talent,  and  her  moth 
er's  bracelets  in  her  bosom. 

263 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"Oh,  Sister  Viola,"  she  pleaded,  "I  must  be 
likewise  excused.  I  have  flutterings  in  my 
heart  that  I  never  before  have  had.  It  is  im 
possible  that  I  should  play  that  rhapsodic — 
impossible !" 

Sister  Viola's  own  heart  fluttered.  Must 
the  concert,  the  great  event  each  year  in  the 
annals  of  the  convent,  fail  this  time  ? 

"What  it  is,  Nanita?"  she  asked  in  a  dull 
voice. 

Nanita  Valdez,  who,  as  the  smallest  girl  in 
the  school  and  a  Brazilian,  was  to  dance  a  ca- 
chuca — even  in  the  presence  of  the  Bishop — 
tripped  up  to  the  unhappy  Sister. 

"My  castanets  do  not  click  well/'  said  Na 
nita,  who  looked  like  a  yellow  tulle  butterfly; 
"besides,  my  heart  goes  just  like  Judith's.  We 
little  girls  have  just  as  much  right  to  heart 
beats  as  the  big  ones,  Sister." 

A  tall  girl,  with  a  golden  pompadour,  disen 
gaged  herself  from  the  quartette. 

264 


THE  DESCENT  OF  BLANCHE 

"If  Bessie  Hinkson  is  going  to  stand  before 
me  when  I  sing  my  phrase,  I  'm  afraid — " 

Sister  Viola  clasped  the  beads  of  her  rosary; 
there  was  a  clapping  of  hands  in  the  hall;  the 
Bishop  had  arrived;  life  became  a  blank  to  her. 

"Young  ladies,"  said  the  gentle  voice  of 
Mother  Juliet  from  the  doorway,  "you  are  all, 
I  know — everyone  of  you — desirous  to  do  well ; 
so  please  kneel  down  and  make  an  aspiration." 

Slowly,  like  falling  snowflakes  on  a  windless 
day,  the  clouds  of  fluffy  white  touched  the  pol 
ished  floor,  even  the  lustrous-eyed  Judith  Sil- 
berstein  bowing  her  head  most  devoutly.  The 
bell  rang,  and  out  upon  the  stage  filed  the  pian 
ists  of  the  first  number,  with  Blanche  at  their 
head.  She  surveyed  the  auditors,  wondering 
how  she  would  face  her  listeners  on  the  twen 
ty-eighth.  Yes,  there  was  Maginnis,  usher 
ing  late-comers  into  their  seats.  She  must  see 
him  after  the  concert;  but  that  hateful  Benny 
Gore  was  nowhere  visible! 

267 


THE  WILES  OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

The  crash  of  the  overture  rang  out /Sister 
Viola's  color  came  back;  she  looked  gratefully 
at  Mother  Juliet. 

"Sister  Viola,"  said  the  Prioress,  gently, 
"when  you  feel  like  boxing  a  woman's  ears,  and 
you  can't,  always  appeal  to  her  religion." 

Maginnis  did  many  "chores,"  as  he  phrased 
it,  for  the  convent,  and  Blanche  Grayson  knew 
that  he  would  probably  await  orders  in  the  par 
lor,  after  the  concert  was  over.  She  found 
him  there,  as  she  expected,  hat  in  hand,  the 
picture  of  guilelessness  and  good  humor.  She 
took  the  proof  of  the  announcement  of  her  lec 
ture  from  the  vestibule  table  and  showed  it  to 
him. 

"I  'm  of  age,  you  know,"  she  began,  fearing 
that  he  would  hesitate  to  help  her. 

"Sure,  you  don't  look  it!"  said  Maginnis, 
gallantly. 

Blanche  drew  herself  up  indignantly. 
268 


THE  DESCENT  OF  BLANCHE 

"Mr.  Maginnis,"  she  said,  "you  see  that 
I  am  going  to  enter  the  lecture-field." 

"I  do,"  said  Maginnis. 

"And  I  Ve  hired  the  hall  in  Bracton,  because 
it  is  near,  and  I  can  go  right  home  to  your 
house  after  the  lecture.  And  I  want  you  to 
assist  me  every  way!" 

"I  will/'  said  Maginnis ;  and  then  he  looked 
down  at  the  wild  azalea  in  his  buttonhole, 
and  seemed  to  think. 

"Please  take  this  proof  to  the  printer's,  and 
tell  him  that  it 's  all  right." 

Maginnis  took  the  placard, — the  one  her 
father  had  seen  in  the  vestibule, — and  looked 
at  the  legend  boldly  printed  upon  it. 

"Sure,"  he  said,  after  a  pause,  "I  thought 
you  had  a  beau — and  let  me  say,  Miss  Gray- 
son,  that  there  's  nothing  in  theatricals  for 
the  likes  of  you.  'T  was  his  reverence  Father 
Blodgett  himself  that  I  heard  sayin'  that  the 

269 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

strongest  of  us  would  be  timpted  by  the  she- 
ductions  of  the  thea^ter,  if  we  got  mixed  up 
with  thim.  If  I  were  the  holy  Sisthers, — beg- 
gin'  their  pardon, — I  'd  counsel  you  to  take 
Mr.  Gore,  the  likely  boy  he  is,  if  he  '11  have 
you." 

"Have  me!"  Blanche  exclaimed,  reddening 
to  the  roots  of  her  carefully  parted  hair.  She 
remembered  that  she  must  preserve  her  dig 
nity.  "Mr.  Gore  is  nothing  to  me.  When  he 
heard  of  my  lecture,  he  asked  Mrs.  Magee, 
if  I  was  going  to  do  'the  escaped-nun  racket/ 
It 's  vulgar." 

"So  Herself  's  in  it !"  said  Maginnis.  He 
grinned;  then,  as  he  repeated  Benny  Gore's 
obnoxious  phrase,  a  light  broke  upon  him,  and 
he  chuckled  hoarsely.  Blanche  Grayson  was 
certainly  a  very  pretty  and  simple  girl. 
Finola,  the  "twin"  might  be  like  her  some  day; 
the  twin  should  not  waste  herself  on  a  career, 
if  he  could  prevent  it. 

270 


"  So  Herself  's  in  it ! "  said  Magiimis 


THE  DESCENT  OF  BLANCHE 

"You  will  do  what  you  can  to  fill  the  hall, 
Mr.  Maginnis?" 

"1 11  fill  the  hall,"  said  Maginnis.  "Every 
Kerry  man  in  town  will  be  there." 

"You  '11  put  up  the  posters,  and  sell  the 
tickets — you  have  great  influence — " 

"I'll  fill  the  hall;  there'll  not  be  standin' 
room,  and  Mary  Ann  will  go  with  you,  and 
look  after  you." 

"Oh,  thank  you  so  much!  As  to  the 
money — " 

"Never  mind  that,"  said  Maginnis,  with  a 
magnificent  wave  of  his  hand;  "I  '11  come  out 
square." 

At  this  moment  Sister  Viola  entered  the  par 
lor  in  search  of  Blanche,  and  Maginnis  said  a 
respectful  good-by. 

Twilight  had  fallen  when  Maginnis  reached 
the  printing  office  to  which  all  Bracton  sent 
its  job  work.  It  was  closed,  but  he  went  over 
to  Benny  Gore's  boarding-house  and  borrowed 

273 


THE  WILES  OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

his  lead  pencil.  Then  he  made  certain  changes 
in  Miss  Grayson's  announcement  of  her  lecture. 

"I 11  riot  tell  the  boy  till  after  it 's  done/' 
he  said;  "'t  is  betther  to  leave  him  the  little 
peace  of  mind  he  has." 

He  thrust  the  placard  under  the  printer's 
door,  with  the  corrections  carefully  marked. 
On  his  way,  he  had  to  lean  against  several 
fences,  and  his  roars  of  laughter,  as  he  en 
tered  the  lane;  that  led  to  his  home  at  the 
Curtice  Place,  almost  awakened  Finn  and 
Finola. 

Benny  Gore  began  to  cheer  up  on  the  day 
before  the  lecture.  This  was  the  day  on  which 
the  posters  were  carefully  nailed  on  vacant 
fences,  and  on  the  big  tree  in  front  of  Father 
Blodgett's  rectory. 

"Poor,  misguided  creature,  whoever  she  is," 
said  Father  Blodgett,  taking  the  placard  down, 
"if  she  only  dreamed  of  the  passions  she  may 
arouse  in  this  peaceful  community,  she  might 

274 


THE  DESCENT  OF  BLANCHE 

pause  in  her  career  for  gain.  Maginnis,  see 
that  our  people  keep  away ;  I  'm  sorry  it  is  too 
late  to  tell  them  so  from  the  altar.  Let  there 
be  no  disturbance;  the  poor  thing  is,  after  all, 


a  woman." 


Maginnis  promised  gently  and  sweetly  to 
see  that  there  should  be  no  disturbance. 
"But,"  he  said,  "I  wish,  Father,  you  ?d  keep 
an  eye  on  Herself.  It 's  mighty  queer  of  her 
to  be  sellin'  tickets  and  tryin'  to  get  everybody 
to  go  to  the  lecture.  And  it  against  her  own 
people!  There  are  women,  as  well  as  men," 
he  added,  "that  would  be  the  better  for  the 
pledge." 

Father  Blodgett  sighed.  "She  was  such  a 
worthy  woman,"  he  said.  "Drink  is  a  curse." 

"Right  you  are,  your  Reverence,"  said  Ma 
ginnis,  virtuously.  "It 's  not  me,  though,  that 
would  say  a  word  against  Herself." 

On  the  night  of  the  twenty-eighth  of  May, 
Colonel  Grayson  came  back  to  Bracton  just 

275 


THE  WILES  OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

in  time  to  see  crowds  of  men  entering  the 
town  hall.  He  could  not  keep  away,  though 
he  felt  that  his  name  was  to  be  disgraced,  and, 
in  his  heart,  he  was  proud  of  the  little  girl's 
pluck.  He  observed  that  there  was  a  carriage 
in  the  side  street,  and  that  Benny  Gore,  in  a 
long,  light  rain-coat,  with  his  inseparable 
brier-wood  pipe  between  his  lips,  was  loitering 
there.  The  Colonel  joined  him,  and  shook 
hands.  They  walked  up  and  down  the  narrow 
pavement,  accompanied  only  by  tobacco  smoke 
and  the  scent  of  young  mint  when  the  Colonel 
breathed  hard  in  his  sorrow.  In  a  clear  tenor 
voice,  Benny  tried  once  or  twice  the  old  tune, 
"Said  the  Rose:" 

"And  she  fixed  me  in  her  bosom, 

Like  a  star, 

And  I  flashed  there  all  the  morning, 
Jasmine,  honeysuckle  scorning, 
Parasites  forever  fawning, 

That  they  are!" 

276 


THE  DESCENT  OF  BLANCHE 

"You  seem  mighty  cheerful/'  said  the 
Colonel. 

"I  reckon  I  am,"  said  Benny. 

Blanche  heard  the  carol,  and  her  heart  began 
to  thump.  She  stood  under  the  hoop  of  gas 
lights  that  illuminated  the  bleak  Bracton  hall, 
the  only  ornament  of  which  was  a  big,  rusty, 
cylinder-stove.  This  was  all  very  different 
from  listening  to  Professor  MacNialFs  beauti 
ful  lectures,  and  dreaming  of  a  pure,  high, 
starry  career.  She  noticed,  looking  at  the 
"sea  of  faces,"  that  there  was  hardly  a  woman 
in  the  hall.  Mrs.  Magee,  whose  bonnet  had 
been  turned  awry  in  her  effort  to  get  a  good 
seat,  was  just  behind  her  son-in-law. 

Mary  Ann  stood  in  the  room  near  the  stage, 
opening  into  the  side  street.  She  had  been 
instructed  to  have  Miss  Grayson's  wraps  in 
readiness,  and  her  heart  was  in  her  mouth,  for 
she  felt  that  Maginnis  was  up  to  something. 

277 


THE  WILES   OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

From  her  place  she  could  see  Maginnis  and  the 
purple  roses  on  her  mother's  spring  hat. 

Maginnis  clapped  his  hands,  and  applause 
followed  that  seemed  somehow  to  have  an 
ironical  echo.  The  lecturer  forgot  to  kick  the 
train  of  her  black  chiffon  gown,  as  set  down  in 
several  rehearsals;  but  she  opened  her  manu 
script  very  gracefully,  cleared  her  throat,  and 
read,  gaining  strength  as  she  went  on.  Her 
auditors  were  silent,  and  they  appeared  to  be 
expectant.  She  was  just  beginning  to  think 
that  her  black  gloves  made  her  hands  seem 
very  small  when  she  began  with  a  careful 
"prelude." 

"Philosophy  is  the  key  of  life,  and,  I  may 
say,  the  key  of  poetry.  A  poet's  ethics, — by 
ethics  I  mean  the  philosophical  conduct  of  life, 
— comes  from  his  essential  consciousness.  If 
Pope  had  been  less  self-seeking,  less  malicious, 
less  mischievous,  less  treacherous — " 


Magiimis  jumped  from  his  seat  and  caught  her  arm 


THE  DESCENT  OF  BLANCHE 

A  roar  from  the  suspicious  front  benches 
followed  these  assertions. 

"Glory  be  to  God,  Maginnis!"  whispered 
Herself,  leaning  over  in  her  excitement  and 
tapping  her  son-in-law's  elbow,  "what  is  she 
sayin'  against  the  Pope?" 

"Pope's  treachery,"  continued  Blanche, 
trembling  a  little,  "was  the  result  of  a — " 

Catcalls  and  groans  interrupted  her.  An 
egg,  brought  into  the  hall,  in  spite  of  all  vigi 
lance,  struck  the  edge  of  the  stage.  Blanche 
stepped  back,  open-eyed  and  startled.  Magin 
nis  jumped  from  his  seat  and  caught  her  arm, 
and  hurried  her  out  to  Mary  Ann. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Maginnis,"  she  asked,  now  trem 
bling  very  much,  "why  will  they  not  listen? 
Am  I  a  failure?" 

"They  're  the  ignorant  kind  that  hate  educa 
tion,"  said  Maginnis,  consolingly.  "They  '11 
tear  the  hall  down  next,"  he  added,  with  com 
placency. 

281 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

The  world  seemed  to  be  falling  around 
Blanche;  but  there,  just  outside  the  door,  was 
Benny  Gore,  who  lifted  her  into  the  carriage. 

"He  's  betther  nor  a  career,  miss/'  Magin- 
nis  whispered.  "Take  him,  and,  if  you  '11  ac 
cept  my  advice,  Mr.  Gore,  you  'II  drive  the 
bride's  father  with  you  to  Father  Blodgett's, 
for  his  emotions  have  n't  left  him  a  leg  to 
stand  on."  And,  indeed,  the  Colonel  seemed 
dazed. 

Blanche  leaned  her  head  on  Benny's  shoulder 
and  wept. 

"Was  it  so  very  bad?"  she  asked. 

"I  'm  afraid  so,"  he  said,  "for  they  're  hav 
ing  a  fight  in  the  hall  over  it  yet." 

"I  shall  never  try  again,"  she  answered,  with 
a  sob. 

"You  and  your  wife  will  meet  us  at  the  rec 
tory,"  said  Benny  Gore  to  Maginnis.  "And 
I  '11  never  forget  you." 

"'T  was  Herself's  work,  Mary  Ann,"  whis- 
282 


THE  DESCENT  OF  BLANCHE 

pered  Maginnis,  "encouragin'  a  homeless  or 
phan  to  her  own  destruction.  And  I  'm  glad 
the  twins  are  not  old  enough  to  hear  of  it. 
Mary  Ann,  lead  your  mother  to  the  rectory. 
I  '11  follow/' 

He  stood  alone  under  the  lamp-post;  he 
chuckled,  as  he  read  his  masterpiece,  which 
some  rude  hand  had  recently  plucked  from  a 
blank  wall: 

"Bracton  Town  Hall,  May  28,  1902, 

at  eight  o'clock. 
Lecture :  The  Damnation  of  the  Celt  in 

Literature.' 

by  An  Escaped  Nun. 

Tickets,  fifty  cents,  admitting  two/' 

"No  Kerry  boy  could  stand  that''  he  said, 
"and  well  I  knew  it ;  but  I  'd  like  to  have  the 
spalpeen  by  the  neck  that  threw  an  egg  at  the 
lady.  'T  is  a  good  piece  of  work,"  he  added, 
folding  up  the  poster ;  "but,  glory  be !  'T  is  the 
last  thing  I  '11  do  of  the  kind,  if  I  can  help  it." 
17  283 


VIII 

THE  TEST  OF  SEXTON    MAGINNIS 

BRACTON,  in  the  early  spring,  is  at  its 
worst;  the  trees  bud  sooner  than  any 
where  north  of  Washington,  but  they 
are  more  capricious,  and  just  as  one  thinks  that 
the  maples  will  put  on  a  friendly  aspect,  they 
refuse  to  do  anything  of  the  kind.  It  was  one 
of  those  dark,  soggy  afternoons  when  the  daf 
fodils  are  standing  at  the  wings  in  bright  yel 
low  skirts  and  seem  to  be  delighted  to  keep  the 
audience  waiting  until  the  very  last  note  of  the 
prelude  to  the  spring  song  has  ceased  to  sound. 
Even  the  good  cannot  be  happy  on  a  day  when 
mist  hangs  over  the  roofs  of  factories  and  the 
roads  suck  up  galoshes  and  when  fog  whistles 
blow  on  the  river. 

284 


THE  TEST  OF  SEXTON  MAGINNIS 

Maginnis  reflected  somewhat  in  this  man 
ner,  as  he  pottered  about  the  garden  patch  in 
front  of  St.  Kevin's  rectory,  and  considered  the 
goodness  of  the  pastor,  the  Reverend  Stephen 
Wetherill  Blodgett,  and  heard  the  word 
"Pa-a-a-x,  Pa-a-a-x!"  shrilling  from  the 
church,  where  the  leading  soprano  was  rehears 
ing  the  Easter  music.  He  had  just  had  a 
slight  conversation  with  a  stranger,  who  said 
that  he  wanted  to  see  a  clergyman  between 
trains,  and  that  he  had  been  sent  to  the  rectory. 

"I  reckon,"  Maginnis  had  said,  with  a  touch 
of  superciliousness,  "from  your  accent  that 
you  're  not  wan  of  our  own  people.  You  '11 
find  the  Methodist  parson  just  beyant."  When 
the  stranger  had  thanked  him,  Maginnis  said 
to  himself  that  he  had  forgotten  to  explain  that 
the  clergyman  was  colored.  "If  he  wants  spir 
itual  consolation,"  he  reflected,  "'t  will  be  the 
same  whether  it 's  black  or  white." 

285 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

The  organ  in  the  church  rumbled.  The 
voice  began  again — "Pa-a-a-x!""P-a-a-a-x!" 
Father  Blodgett  stood  near  his  window,  very 
erect,  with  one  hand  in  his  cassock  pocket,  the 
other  shielding  his  right  ear — he  was  slightly 
deaf  in  his  left. 

"Pax!"  repeated  Father  Blodgett,  a  weary 
look  coming  over  his  pale  face.  "Peace  when 
there  is  no  peace!"  He  took  out  his  pocket 
handkerchief  to  wipe  the  steam  from  the  win 
dow  pane — for  it  was  washing  day  in  the  little 
rectory — in  order  to  look  at  Maginnis,  who  ap 
peared  to  be  giving  personal  attention  to  each 
struggling  blade  of  Bermuda  grass.  Father 
Blodgett  sighed.  There  are  times — on  wash 
ing  days  in  small  houses,  for  instance — when, 
even  to  the  highest  types  of  the  spiritual  mind, 
the  world  is  dreary.  The  fog  whistles  and  the 
voice  prevented  the  good  pastor  from  sleeping, 
and  his  conscience  was  set  against  drink  as  a 

286 


THE  TEST  OF  SEXTON  MAGINNIS 

relief  from  care.  This  aspect  of  the  case 
struck  the  faithful  Maginnis  to  the  heart. 

"I  have  often  been  too  hard  on  Maginnis/' 
thought  Father  Blodgett,  as  he  looked  through 
the  clear  place  in  the  pane  of  glass,  "when  he 
complained  of  his  mother-in-law,  and  I  have 
no  doubt  good  women  can  sometimes  do  almost 
as  much  harm  as  the  bad  ones — if  there  really 
are  any  bad  ones.  It 's  too  bad !  too  bad !"  he 
thought,  "and  the  factions  reconciled  in  this 
parish  and  all  the  difficulties  the  Bishop  pre 
dicted  when  he  sent  me  here  to  overcome. 
Maginnis  has  struggled  very  hard  to  be 
quite  truthful  of  late;  it  will  strengthen  his 
resolution  perhaps,  if  I  have  a  little  talk  with 
him." 

The  truth  was  that  even  this  ascetic  and  mod 
est  soul  was  hungry  for  human  companionship. 
There  had  been  silence  in  the  choir  for  some 
time.  Then  the  voice  broke  out  again.  It  was 
a  metallic  voice  capable  of  unlimited  endurance. 

287 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

It  began  in  a  tremolo  and  then  ran  up  the  scale, 
while  the  organist  evidently  in  obedience  to  a 
sharp  command,  ceased  to  play.  The  voice  re 
verberated  and  rouladed  and  clung  in  pensive 
flutings  about  "A"  in  the  word  "Pax";  it 
thrilled  the  air  with  vibrations  that,  if  not  made 
within  a  sacred  edifice,  surely  would  have 
sounded  like  urgent  shrieks  for  help. 

"She  's  got  'em  bad !"  murmured  Maginnis, 
straightening  his  back  for  a  moment,  and  light 
ing  his  pipe.  "And  a  good  man,  the  pasther 
is — none  better !  He  's  too  good !  Sure  Fa 
ther  Dudley  at  the  Bishop's  would  know  how 
to  deal  with  her.  He  's  too  good ; — sure  the 
whole  choir  would  resign,  if  it  was  n't  for  his 
goodness.  It 's  too  bad,"  continued  Maginnis, 
remembering  the  existence  of  Herself,  "that, 
even  when  a  man  's  not  married,  he  should  be 
worried  by  the  ways  of  the  sect.  If  he  'd  only 
smoke  a  pipe  or  take  a  drink  between  meals,  on 
a  day  like  this  with  that  soprany  practisin'. 

288 


THE  TEST  OF  SEXTON  MAGINNIS 

Sure,"  he  concluded,  "he  's  peculiar,  like  all 
converts!"  And  he  sighed.  Then,  in  the 
kindness  of  his  heart — and  also  for  compan 
ionship — he  went  upstairs,  "to  look  after  the 
pasther  a  bit."  The  door  of  the  room  was  ajar, 
but  Maginnis  knocked  with  great  gentleness 
and  coughed  politely. 

"I  thought  your  reverence  was  restin',"  he 
said  gently. 

"Resting?"  repeated  the  pastor,  "Is  is  pos 
sible  for  anybody  to  rest  with  that  going  on? 
I  hear,"  continued  the  pastor,  "that  the  choir 
rehearsal  last  evening  in  the  school  hall  was 
almost  indecorous  because — because  that  lady 
wanted  to  sing  all  the  Easter  solos." 

"I  won't  say  't  was  indecorous,"  answered 
Maginnis,  leaning  respectfully  against  the  wall. 
"There  was  no  blood  drawn.  And,  if  any 
thing  had  happened,  Iky  Bludstein,  the  report 
er,  would  have  kept  it  out  of  the  paper,  out  of 
regard  for  your  reverence." 

289 


THE  WILES  OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

Father  Blodgett's  face  was  a  picture  of  re 
signed  disgust. 

"I  attinded  myself,"  went  on  Maginnis,  "in 
case  anything  should  go  wrong,  and  it  did  me 
good  to  hear  Mrs.  John  Moldonovo — little  El 
len  O'Reilly  that  was — give  Mrs.  Gillooly  a 
piece  of  her  mind  on  them  words  in  the  'Sanc- 
tus'  they  both  wanted  to  sing.  'Me  an  ama- 
chooer,'  said  Mrs.  Gillooly,  polite  like,  but  with 
her  eyes  blazin'.  'You  take  breath  like  a 
grampus!'  said  little  Ellen.  'Me,'  said  Mrs. 
Gillooly,  'Me  who  was  told  by  Marchesi  when 
I  was  in  Paris  that  she  could  n't  do  anything 
more  for  me! — me  an  amachooer!  It  made 
my  blood  curdle  to  hear  her  laugh.  And  then 
the  organist  banged  down  the  lid  of  the  piano, 
and  said — well,  savin'  your  prisence,  he  said 
that—" 

"Never  mind,  Maginnis!"  Father  Blodgett 
groaned. 

"It  was  natural  enough,"  said  Maginnis, 
290 


THE  TEST  OF  SEXTON  MAGINNIS 

"though  his  words  were  strong — that  he 
wouldn't  play  another  note  for  anybody  that 
had  n't  ear  enough  to  sing  a  simple  'Amen' 
without  getting  off  of  the  key.  But  don't 
think  of  it,  your  reverence — singers,  especially 
female  singers" — and  Maginnis  became  very 
earnest,  "have  the  artistic  temperature,  and 
many  a  fine  fight  at  choir  meetings  I  have 
stopped  in  my  time  by  inventin'  some 
thing  soothing" — Maginnis  paused,  blushing 
slightly. 

Father  Blodgett  was  apparently  not  listen 
ing.  Maginnis  straightened  a  picture,  in  or 
der  to  give  a  reason  for  his  existence  in  the 
room.  "Herself  and  Mrs.  Gillooly  have  many 
points  in  common,  though  they  're  in  different 
ranks  of  life.  They  're  both  widows ; — there  's 
this  consolation,  that  there  's  always  the  hope 
that  they  '11  marry  again,  and  the  widow  with 
a  second  husband  always  has  so  much  to  do 
that  she  can't  manage  other  people's  affairs. 

291 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"I  wish  to  heaven  that  Mrs.  Gillooly  would 
marry  somebody  outside  the  parish,"  said  the 
pastor,  with  unusual  warmth,  beginning  to 
walk  up  and  down  the  room.  "Since  she  came, 
there  's  been  no  ease  or  comfort  here.  She 
meddles  in  everything.  She  insults  my  house 
keeper  by  making  criticism.  She  comes  at  all 
hours  of  the  day.  She  is  always  having  in 
fernal  scruples  of  conscience  and  telephoning 
about  them." 

Maginnis  looked  up,  pleased;  he  had  never 
heard  such  "natural"  language  before  from 
the  pastor ;  it  warmed  his  heart. 

"She  preaches  to  the  poor  mothers  about 
their  duties  to  humanity  when  their  only  duty 
is  to  get  as  much  rest  as  they  can  when  they  Ve 
looked  after  the  needs  of  their  husbands  and 
children.  She 's  brought  a  lot  of  horrible 
painted  statues  from  abroad,  and  she  pesters 
people  to  buy  tickets  in  a  lottery  for  raffling 
them  off — 

292 


THE  TEST  OF  SEXTON  MAGINNIS 

"And  not  one  of  St.  Patrick  in  the  whole  lot," 
muttered  Maginnis,  "the  renegade!" 

"She  's  started  a  class  of  factory  girls  in  the 
study  of  Dante  and  Bernard  Shaw !" 

"The  unfortunate  creatures !"  murmured 
Maginnis,  sympathetically. 

"She  insisted  on  adapting  the  music  of  the 
drinking  song  in  Traviata'  to  the  Tantum 
Ergo'  "- 

"She  did!"  cried  Maginnis,  carried  away 
with  horror,  "Glory  be  to  God !" 

"And,"  the  pastor  seemed  to  be  suddenly  at 
tacked  with  nausea,  "she  has  made  a  horrible 
crayon  picture  of  me,  and  exposed  it  to  the 
public  gaze  in  River's  Drug  Shop,  'on  chances' 
as  she  calls  it,  for  an  orphan  asylum!  And 
she  's  going  to  have  a  'course'  dinner,  I  see  in 
the  Star,  in  O'Keefe's  barn,  to  pay  for  another 
and  doubtless  more  terrible  statue  to  be  put  up 
in  my  front  garden!  I  can  deal  with  men, 
but"— 

293 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"Women  are  the — Lucifers  of  this  world," 
said  Maginnis,  suppressing  himself  in  time. 
His  soft  heart  was  touched.  He  felt  that  his 
ascetic  and  reserved  pastor  must  have  suffered 
indeed,  to  have  spoken  so  freely,  for  he  was  sel 
dom  so  expansive.  Maginnis  guessed  that  the 
exhibition  of  the  crayon  portrait  had  produced 
this  effect.  Father  Blodgett  was  always  very 
unreserved  with  children,  but  he  seldom  used 
words  not  carefully  measured  with  their  elders. 
Maginnis  could  sympathize  thoroughly  with  the 
pastor's  indignation  against  the  constant  med 
dling  of  Mrs.  Gillooly,  but  he  regarded  the 
crayon  picture  as  a  work  of  art  of  which  any 
body  might  be  proud.  However,  the  pastor 
must  be  "humored" — and  anything  for  a  half 
hour  of  social  conversation ! 

"It's  intolerable!"  exclaimed  Father  Blod 
gett,  rapidly  walking  his  floor,  with  his  hands 
clasped  behind  him.  They  were  capable  hands, 
but  now  they  seemed  to  express  the  utter  help- 

294 


THE  TEST  OF  SEXTON  MAGINNIS 

lessness  of  the  man  to  whom  they  belonged. 
"She  came  to  this  spot — unattractive  to  an  or 
dinary  woman  of  means — because  she  was  a 
bereaved  widow  in  search  of  quiet.  She  want 
ed  to  be  near  a  church.  She  said  she  'd  like 
to  spend  her  surplus  income  on  the  poor,  but 
there  are  no  really  poor  people  here — " 

"Ah-a!"  said  Maginnis,  with  an  air  of  owl- 
like  wisdom,  "I  see  it  all !  She  came  because 
she  could  save  her  money  while  she  was  look 
ing  for  the  poor — " 

"You  are  uncharitable,  Maginnis !  It 's  my 
belief  that  she  came  and  stayed  simply  for  the 
pleasure  of  interfering  in  other  persons'  busi 
ness.  The  rich  New  England  Contractor  left 
her  well  off,  she  had  'done'  Europe  several 
times,  she  could  live  where  she  pleased,  and 
yet  she  chooses  this  unhappy  spot." 

"'T  is  because  of  your  sermons,  Father,"  said 
Maginnis,  dropping  the  lid  of  his  left  eye, 
"though  she  has  remarked  more  than  wancst 

295 


THE  WILES   OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

that  they  've  more  of  St.  John  in  them  and  less 
of  St.  Pether  than  she  liked." 

The  pastor's  face  flushed;  he  looked  at  the 
Braun  photograph  of  the  Murillo  on  the  wall, 
and  closed  his  lips.  The  voice  from  the  church 
rose  again — "Pleni,  Pleni,  pleni,  pleni, 
pl-1-l-l-l-ni,  pl-1-M-l-ni,  sunt,  sunt,  SUNT,  chaeli, 
chaeli,  chaeli,  CHAE — li !" 

The  pastor  forgot  the  Murillo.  "It  must 
stop!"  he  said.  "That  woman  makes  strife 
grow  up  whenever  she  moves ; — she  's  pester 
ing  the  Bishop  about  an  orphan  asylum,  though 
the  good  people  are  glad  to  take  into  their  own 
homes  the  few  orphans  we  have ; — she  does  n't 
honestly  want  an  orphan  asylum,  she  wants  to 
have  an  excuse  for  a  progressive  euchre  party, 
which  is  disguised  gambling.  She  wrote  an 
anonymous  letter  to  his  Lordship,  complaining 
that  St.  Kevin's  did  n't  have  rose-colored  vest 
ments  on  Laetare  Sunday,  as  if  /  was  n't  care 
ful  enough  about  the  rubrics.  She  has  written 

296 


THE  TEST  OF  SEXTON  MAGINNIS 

an  abusive  article  in  The  Star  on  the  Free  Ma 
sons,  who  gave  us  three  hundred  dollars  for  the 
hospital  fund,  and  she  's  raked  up  Anglican 
Orders  again  in  another  letter,  and  opened  a 
horribly  unchristian  debate  on  a  subject  which 
does  not  concern  our  poor  people." 

"It's  zeal,"  said  Maginnis,  winking  the 
other  eye  and  industriously  brushing  the  pas 
tor's  overcoat. 

"Zeal!  The  worst  of  this  kind  of  zeal  is 
that  it  is  turning  this  little  town,  where  every 
body  was  forgetting  to  hate,  into  a  hot-bed  of 
strife !  What  can  I  do  ?  What  can  the  Bishop 
do?  She  talks  him  to  death  whenever  she  can 
catch  him — I  verily  believe  he  is  afraid  of  her." 

"After  all,"  said  Maginnis  solemnly,  "a  Bish 
op  is  only  human.  If  she  could  be  married 
to  somebody  that  did  n't  know  her,  we  'd  be 
better  off — it 's  often  I  Ve  had  the  same 
thought  about  Herself.  But,  in  the  case  of 
Mrs.  Gillooly,  there  's  no  man  of  her  own  class 

297 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

of  life  in  Bracton  or  thereabouts  that  I  know 
of." 

"I  hope  she  will  not  marry  anybody  in  this 
parish,"  said  the  pastor,  hastily.  "But,  if  an 
unfortunate  wretch  could  come  from  far  away 
parts  and  take  her,  I  'd  bless  him !  Good 
heaven !"  he  murmured,  conscience-stricken,  "I 
am  forgetting  my  principles  and  my  dignity." 

"There  he  is  again !"  interrupted  Maginnis, 
glancing  out  the  window.  "He  '11  like  to  see 
you — I  suppose  he  did  n't  find  what  he  want 
ed." 

Up  the  soggy  road  came  a  man  of  average 
height,  who  seemed  desirous  of  becoming  sig 
nificant  by  assuming  a  distinguished  appear 
ance.  His  tall  hat  was  unusually  tall;  he 
swung  a  light  cane  jauntily;  there  was  a  very 
slight  band  of  black  on  the  left  arm  of  his  open 
tan-colored  overcoat,  and  he  showed  an  ex 
panse  of  limp  shirt-front.  A  little  lock  of 
black  hair  was  visible  on  his  forehead  which 

298 


THE  TEST  OF  SEXTON  MAGINNIS 

matched  a  small  mustache  darkly  contrasting 
with  a  very  rosy  complexion.  Maginnis  de 
scended  at  once  and  met  the  newcomer  at  the 
garden  gate. 

"Is  the  reverend  gentleman  at  home?" 

"He  is,"  said  Maginnis. 

"I  have  been  rather  disappointed  in  the  cler 
gyman  you  sent  me  to.  I  have  no  prejudice, 
but  I  discovered  that  he  was  a  gentleman  of 
color — No?  I  am  not  a  book  agent.  I  have 
spent  my  time  in  buying  up  patent  rights,  and 
I  am  about  to  retire  from  business;  I  am  not 
in  life  insurance.  There  is,  therefore,  no  rea 
son  why  the  reverend  gentleman  should  not 
see  me.  I  dropped  off  here,  to  remain  between 
trains  because  I  needed  spiritual  advice — and 
a  clergyman  of  any  denomination  can  give  it 
to  me." 

"You  're  not  wan  of  our  people?"  said  Ma 
ginnis,  doubtfully. 

"My  religious  traditions  are  eclectic,  but,  as 

299 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

I  said,  I  have  no  prejudice,"  answered  the 
newcomer,  somewhat  impatiently.  "Ah,  that 
voice,  did  you  hear  it  a  moment  ago  ?" 

"Hear  it !"     Maginnis  could  say  no  more. 

"Lovely  timber !  My  wife  had  a  voice  like 
that.  Her  'Holy  City'  was  great ; — this  brings 
back  memories !" 

Maginnis  leaned  on  the  gate  in  a  leisurely 
manner. 

"My  name  is  Job  C.  Souerby;  take  it  to  the 
reverend  gentleman;  I  have  not  much  time  to 
lose.  I  have  reached  a  psychological  moment 
— but  who — may  I  inquire — is  that  voice  ?" 

"Here  it  comes/'  said  Maginnis,  grimly. 

A  lady,  who  seemed  to  be  of  well-preserved 
upper  middle  age,  came  graciously  towards 
them.  She  carried  a  roll  of  music  in  one  hand 
and  held  up  her  skirt  gracefully  with  the  other. 

"That  voice !"  said  Mr.  Souerby,  addressing 
himself  to  Maginnis,  but  looking  at  Mrs.  Gil- 

300 


THE  TEST  OF  SEXTON  MAGINNIS 

looly.  "The  place  for  that  voice  is  in  West 
minster  Abbey." 

"Or  the  cathedral  of  Tralee !"  added  Magin- 
nis,  carried  away  by  Mr.  Souerby's  gallantry  0 

Mrs.  Gillooly  paused. 

"Oh,  Maginnis,"  she  said,  taking  no  notice 
of  the  stranger,  "the  organ  must  be  tuned;  it 
flattens  my  high  C." 

Maginnis  seemed  undecided;  then  he  made 
a  rapid  utterance — 

"Mrs.  Gillooly,  allow  me  to  interjuce  Mr. 
Souerby?  Mr.  Souerby,  Mrs.  Gillooly;  now  I 
may  say  that  neither  had  the  advantage  of  the 
other." 

"Charmed!"  said  Mrs.  Gillooly,  showing 
beautiful  teeth  and  shaking  the  forest  of  ostrich 
feathers  on  her  hat.  "You  remind  me  of  some 
body  I  have  seen." 

"In  dreams,  perhaps,"  replied  Mr.  Souerby, 
promptly!  "A  community  of  thought  makes 

301 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

the  world  kin.  I  love  romantic  poetry.  'The 
Raven/  during  long  years  in  business,  kept  me 
idealistic.  I  have  lived  in  Ulalume!  When 
I  look  at  you,  I  look  at  'Helen/  " 

"From  what  I  have  heard  of  Poe,"  said  Mrs. 
Gillooly,  with  a  tinge  of  haughtiness,  "I  am 
sure  I  ought  not  to  approve  of  him.  In  fact,  I 
am  not  poetical/' 

"What,  with  that  voice !" 

Mrs.  Gillooly  unbent.  "I  have  had  advan 
tages,  it  is  true.  I  have  been  abroad  a  great 
deal.  By  the  way  Maginnis,  don't  let  Father 
Blodgett  catch  cold !  If  he  is  hoarse  at  Easter, 
he  '11  spoil  the  whole  effect  of  the  music.  Mod- 
zart  requires  a  delicate  tout  ensemble — " 

And  she  passed  on,  as  if  soliloquizing  on  the 
art  she  loved. 

"She  is  splendid!"  said  Souerby,  "And  yet 
we  may  never  meet  again." 

Maginnis  saw  his  chance.  This  man  was 
evidently  susceptible  and  a  widower,  in  the 

302 


THE  TEST  OF  SEXTON  MAGINNIS 

stage  which  precedes  a  second  plunge  into  mat 
rimony.  He  was  on  the  spring  board,  and  a 
gentle  push —  Maginnis's  eyes  glistened. 
Exquisite  phrases,  artfully  spoken,  of  Mrs.  Gil- 
looly's  perfections  rose  to  his  mind.  Oh  that 
he  were  free  to  let  his  unequalled  gift  plough 
through  the  arid  acres  of  fact!  A  few  light 
touches  deftly  on  the  face  of  truth,  and — who 
knows? — the  poetic  Mr.  Souerby  might  be  in 
duced  to  carry  away  the  tuneful  Mrs.  Gillooly 
from  Bracton  forever !  The  man  and  the  mo 
ment  were  at  hand.  And  yet  Maginnis  could 
not  break  his  pledge  to  the  pastor,  even  to  save 
him.  The  golden  chance,  as  it  were,  hovered 
in  the  air ;  and  yet  he  could  not  grasp  it !  His 
lips  moved,  but  he  spoke  not.  The  artistic 
vision  of  what  he  might  do  absorbed  him  for 
a  moment ;  he  looked  at  the  pale  face  at  the  up 
per  window — and  the  temptation  was  almost 
gone.  He  might  speak  in  generalities,  but  that 
was  all,  that  was  all! 

303 


THE  WILES   OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"One  woman  in  a  thousand,  I  opine,"  said 
Mr.  Souerby,  sadly  looking  after  the  slow-mov 
ing  Mrs.  Gillooly. 

"Ah,"  said  Maginnis,  suffering  visibly, 
"there  are  females  that  have  the  beauty  of  Cleo- 
pathra  with  the  innocence  of  the  child  unborn ! 
Her  husband  was  a  conthractor;  he  made  so 
much  money,  he  wasn't  able  to  spend  more 
nor  a  fourth  of  it  in  a  long  life  of  drink.  Think 
of  a  woman  with  a  voice  like  that  and  her  hus 
band  leaving  her  alone  in  the  world !" 

"The  brute,"  said  Souerby,  promptly. 

Maginnis,  heaving  a  deep  sigh,  led  Souerby 
to  the  house.  The  pastor  at  once  came  down 
to  the  parlor.  It  was  a  bare  room,  glitteringly 
clean,  with  a  parish  register  on  a  marble-top 
table,  and  a  photogravure  of  Raphael's  "Spa- 
simo  di  Sicilia"  on  the  wall  facing  the  windows. 
The  pastor  asked  Mr.  Souerby  to  take  a  seat, 
and,  standing  himself,  waited.  Mr.  Souerby 
became  very  nervous. 

304 


THE  TEST  OF  SEXTON  MAGINNIS 

"It's  rather  hard,  Sir,  to  begin,"  he  said, 
"and,  all  of  a  sudden  it  occurs  to  me  that  I  may 
seem  rather  foolish ;  but  I  Jm  sure  you  '11  see 
that  my  scruples  are  very  real — and  annoy- 
ing-" 

Father  Blodgett  bowed  slightly. 

"You  see  I  've  been  worried  for  some  time; 
— but  I  '11  make  a  long  story  short.  I  've 
worked  hard,  and  my  little  pouch  is  quite  full 
just  now;  I  can  leave  of?.  I  intend  to  settle 
down  in  some  quiet  place,  like  this,  for  instance, 
under  my  own  vine  and  fig  tree  for  life ;  but  I 
can't—" 

"Why  not?"  asked  the  pastor. 

"I  stopped  between  trains  just  to  see  if  some 
body  in  the  habit  of  giving  advice  to  dubious 
minds  could  n't  answer  that  question  for  me," 
said  Mr.  Souerby,  seriously.  "I  cannot  settle 
down  without  a  wife.  What  is  home  without 
a  helpmate?  What  would  solitude  be  to  me 
without  the  companionship  of  a  woman,  let  us 

305 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

say,  like  that  grand  creature  whose  voice  re 
cently  filled- the  air  with  music,  and — " 

Father  Blodgett's  heart  leaped.  This  man 
was  eccentric,  but  evidently  honest.  Was  it 
possible  that  he  might  be  the  deliverer  of  the 
parish  from  the  zeal  of  Mrs.  Gillooly?  What 
had  Maginnis  said  during  that  brief  interview 
at  the  garden  gate?  For  a  moment  he  hoped 
that  Maginnis  had  broken  his  pledge;  then  he 
rebuked  himself.  He  who  had  reproached  Ma 
ginnis  so  often  felt  almost  aggrieved  when  his 
conscience  bade  him  utter  only  faint  praise — 

"Mrs.  Gillooly  has  excellent  intentions!" 

The  truth — alas! — and  nothing  but  the 
truth ! 

Maginnis,,  who  had  been  listening  in  the 
shadow  of  the  background,  made  a  gesture  of 
despair.  The  Man  and  the  Moment! 

"I  ought  to  marry,  in  order  to  be  happy,  and 
I  was  on  my  way  to  Baltimore  to  propose  to  a 
lady  whom  I  adore.  Although  you  are  a  priest, 

306 


THE  TEST  OF  SEXTON  MAGINNIS 

sir,  you  are,  I  am  sure  a  southern  gentleman, 
and  you  will  sympathize  with  my  sentiments. 
My  traditions  in  religion  are  eclectic;  my  wife 
was  a  Hard  Shell,  and  I  think  that  her  exam 
ple  made  my  conscience  more  delicate  than  is 
perhaps  usual.  There  are  certain  vital  ques 
tions/'  continued  Mr.  Souerby,  "in  which  a 
man's  common  sense  is  of  no  use;  he  simply 
can't  settle  them  for  himself.  My  wife  never 
felt  safe  about  my  hereafter,  and  so,  to  console 
her  I  promised  I  'd  never  marry  again."  Mr. 
Souerby  paused.  "I  believed  that  I  was  doing 
the  right  thing  at  the  time;  but  then  I  could 
not  foresee  that  I  should  meet  a  woman  so  like 
my  incomparable  wife — even  to  the  very  name 
Agnes — that  it  seems  almost  treason  to  my  late 
angel  not  to  make  her  mine.  She  has  all  the 
virtues  that  distinguished  my  wife,  except  her 
voice,  which  was  as  beautiful  as  that  which 
sounded  from  the  church  a  short  time  ago. 
You  heard  it?" 

307 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

The  pastor  merely  nodded. 

"Well,  Sir,  what  I  want  to  know  is  do  you 
think  I  am  bound  by  my  promise?  All  my 
friends  who  are  happily  married  say  yes ;  those 
that  are  unhappily  married  say  no; — but  you, 
I  should  say,  ought  to  be  impartial." 

Father  Blodgett  smiled,  in  spite  of  himself. 
Then,  checking  the  smile,  he  looked  thought 
fully  out  of  the  window.  Mr.  Souerby's  face 
became  painfully  earnest. 

"I  am  sure/'  said  the  pastor,  "from  what  you 
say  that  your  wife  loved  you,  and  would  like  to 
see  you  happy." 

"At  the  same  time,"  broke  in  Mr.  Souerby, 
"she  always  said  that  my  view  of  things  was 
not  sufficiently  conscientious,  and  I  would  n't 
want  her  to  think  I  had  no  scruples !" 

Father  Blodgett  smiled  again.  "I  don't 
think,  my  dear  sir,"  he  said,  "that  a  good  wife 
would  want  her  husband  to  be  unhappy.  She 
might  not  like  her  children  to  pass  into  the 

308 


THE  TEST  OF  SEXTON  MAGINNIS 

hands  of  a  woman  not  of  her  own  choosing" — 

"I  have  no  children." 

"You  need,  then,  have  no  scruple  as  to  a 
promise  given  unasked  in  a  moment  of  intense 
emotion — a  hasty  promise.  There  is  no  rea 
son,  especially  as  you  are  anxious  to  marry  one 
so  like  your  wife,  that  you  should  distress  your 
self  with  morbid  doubts." 

"She  is  the  gentlest  creature— why  the  lady 
with  the  voice  whom  I  met  at  your  door  could 
not  be  more  gracious  or  gentle ! — I  know  your 
Bishop — a  fine  gentleman  he  is! — And,  as  I 
asked  the  advice  of  nearly  all  my  clerical 
friends,  I  asked  his  too,  but  he  said  that,  as  my 
first  wife  was  such  a  paragon,  I  'd  better  stay 
single,  if  I  did  n't  want  to  be  disappointed  in  a 
second." 

"Well — heaven  bless  you!"  said  Father 
Blodgett,  holding  out  his  hand. 

"Thank  you,  Sir; — you  have  greatly  re 
lieved  my  mind.  May  I  leave  a  little  offering 

309 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

for  the  poor  ?  and,  by  the  way,  I  must  congrat 
ulate  you  on  that  exquisite  work  of  art — the 
speaking  picture  of  yourself  in  the  window  of 
the  drug  store,  near  the  station.  From  a  pho 
tograph — not  from  life,  I  presume." 

"Not  from  life,"  the  pastor  replied  bitterly. 

Father  Blodgett  went  back  to  his  room  to  fin 
ish  the  allotted  portion  of  the  office  for  the  day. 
Later,  during  his  walk  by  the  river,  he  reflected 
upon  the  advice  he  had  given.  An  ordinary 
man — Souerby — no  doubt  Matthew  Arnold's 
homme  moyen  sensuel — but  lonely — poor  chap ! 

"I  trust  that  he  may  be  happy  with  his  Ag 
nes! — "  he  thought,  with  a  smile,  thinking  of 
the  man's  simplicity.  "I  wish  that  he  could 
have  seen  Mrs.  Gillooly  first,  and  acquired  the 
art  of  being  happy  with  her." 

Maginnis  approached  on  his  way  home.  He 
tipped  his  hat,  and  asked  if  he  could  do  any 
thing  more  for  his  reverence. 

"No,"  said  his  reverence,  and,  then  with  a 


THE  TEST  OF  SEXTON  MAGINNIS 

look  of  humor  that  was  rare  with  him,  he 
added : 

"There  was  one  thing,  Maginnis,  you  might 
have  done  to-day." 

"Ah,  Father,  I  know — and  it  went  hard  with 
me  not  to  do  it — and  he  just  as  easily  managed 
as  plaster  in  the  hands  of  the  bricklayer !  But 
I  stuck  to  the  truth — and  she  is  still  with  us !" 

And  then  Maginnis  went  sadly  homeward, 
knowing  that  he  had  stood  the  test. 

A  few  days  later  Maginnis  met  Mr.  Souerby 
at  the  station.  He  looked  sad  and  seedy.  His 
coat  was  buttoned  up.  Instead  of  his  cane  he 
carried  an  unrolled  umbrella,  and  one  of  the 
straps  of  his  suit  case  hung  negligently  to  the 
ground.  He  pushed  through  the  crowd  has 
tily,  and  entered  the  solitary  cab  at  the  corner. 
Maginnis  wondered,  but  though  he  lay  in  wait, 
he  did  not  see  him  again  for  some  time.  A  few 
days  later  he  discovered  the  name  of  Job  C. 
Souerby,  Baltimore,  on  one  of  the  pages  of  the 

3" 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

entry  book  at  the  hotel.  Maginnis  remarked 
— strangely  enough — without  attaching  any 
undue  importance  to  the  incident,  that  Mrs. 
Gillooly  had  been  absent  from  three  choir  re 
hearsals.  "Engaged  this  evening,"  were  the 
words  she  sent  to  the  not  unhappy  organist. 
Towards  the  end  of  the  second  week  he  noticed 
Mr.  Souerby  and  Mrs.  Gillooly  walking  under 
one  umbrella  by  the  river.  He  was  charmed; 
deliverance  seemed  near ;  he  determined  to  say 
nothing  as  yet  to  the  pastor. 

"T  is  well  I  told  the  truth,"  he  said  proudly. 
"No  lie  could  have  bettered  this.  'T  is  the 
reward  of  merit,  the  pastor  speaks  about,"  he 
added. 

The  Sunday  in  Mid-Lent — Laetare — had  al 
most  passed.  It  had  been  a  crisp,  bright  day, 
and  a  crocus  or  two  that  had  sprung  up  looked 
as  if  they  would  like  to  hide  their  heads  again 
under  their  blankets.  Father  Blodgett  was  in 
unusually  good  spirits.  The  rose-colored  vest- 

312 


THE  TEST  OF  SEXTON  MAGINNIS 

ments  proper  to  this  feast  had  gladdened  the 
eyes  of  the  congregation,  and  Mrs.  Gillooly 
had  been  absent  from  the  choir.  All  day  Ma- 
/ginnis  had  frequently  paused  in  his  various  avo 
cations  and  chuckled  internally.  There  was  a 
secret  gladdening  his  breast.  On  Saturday 
morning  he  had  seen  Mr.  Job  Souerby,  very 
much  dressed,  with  the  poetical  lock  carefully 
cut,  looking  at  the  crayon  picture  of  the  pastor 
in  River's  Medical  Emporium. 

"I  admire  that  work  of  art,  Mr.  Maginnis," 
he  said.  "In  fact,  I  am  beginning  to  regard  it 
as  the  counterfeit  presentment  of  a  benefac 
tor!" 

The  pastor,  vespers  over,  was  walking  up  and 
down  the  garden  path,  breviary  in  hand,  when 
Mr.  Job  Souerby  opened  the  gate.  Maginnis, 
who  was  going  out  on  his  way  home  turned,  to 
reintroduce  him  to  Father  Blodgett.  The  pas 
tor,  fastidious  as  he  generally  was,  except 
about  children  and  the  very  poor,  showed  that 


THE  WILES   OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

he  was  glad  to  see  that  quick-tongued  gentle 
man  again.  He  was  curious  about  the  issue  of 
the  romance,  and  perhaps  a  trifle  lonely.  He 
finished  the  passage  in  the  office,  closed  the 
book,  and  held  out  his  hand.  Mr.  Souerby's 
clothes  were  very  new;  his  black  cravat  had 
gone; — one  of  a  lilac  color  adorned  with  a 
baroque  pearl  gave  a  joyous  appearance  to  his 
chest. 

"I  came,  Sir/'  said  Mr.  Souerby,  blithely, 
"to  offer  you  a  good  cigar,  and  to  say  that  I 
am  a  happy  man — I  quoted  your  words  to  her, 
Sir,  and  she  consented." 

Father  Blodgett  shook  his  hand  again  even 
more  cordially.  Maginnis  raised  his  eyes  to 
heaven  as  if  in  thanksgiving. 

"And  we  are  going  to  take  a  home  here — 
it 's  a  sweet  little  place.  She  likes  this  town, 
so  do  I.  Affinity  coupled  with  congeniality  of 


taste." 


"Excellent,"  said  Father  Blodgett.     "I  trust 


THE  TEST  OF  SEXTON  MAGINNIS 

that  everybody  here  will  try  to  make  you  and 
your  Agnes  content/' 

"Agnes !"  Mr.  Souerby  bloomed,  like  a  red, 
red  rose.  He  paused  an  instant,  rather  embar 
rassed.  "Oh! — not  Agnes!  Agnes  refused 
me  when  I  went  and  asked  her — She  was  of  the 
opinion  that  a  man  with  an  angel  wife  would 
never  feel  that  he  had  found  another — But  the 
lady  that  owns  me — as  the  Irish  say,"  he  said 
with  a  jocose  glance  at  Maginnis,  "is  the  gen- 
tilest,  clingingest,  yet  most  queenlike  creature 
on  this  earth !  As  soon  as  I  saw  her,  I  felt  that, 
though  I  was  in  honor  bound  to  propose  to  Ag 
nes,  she  was  my  Helen.  That  voice — " 

"What,"  exclaimed  Father  Blodgett. 

"Her  name  is  Julianna — Julianna  Gillooly. 
I  knew  I  would  surprise  you !" 

There  was  a  profound  silence.  A  few  early 
frogs  in  the  marsh  could  be  heard  distinctly. 

"And  you  are  going  to" — began  Father 
Blodgett,  faintly. 

315 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

" —  stay  in  Bracton  as  long  as  you  are  here, 
Sir!  I  intend  to  sit  under  you  every  Sunday 
and  listen  to  my  wife's  glorious  voice.  Bet 
ter  is  that  even  than  the  worship  of  the  Essence 
under  the  oak  trees  of  Nature's  grove,  as  In- 
gersoll  once  said.  It 's  woman,  Sir,  that  leads 
us  upward!  Julianna  made  only  one  condi 
tion,  that  she  wouldn't  have  to  give  up  her 
choir  work.  And,  Sir,  the  proudest  ornament 
of  our  dwelling  will  be  your  portrait !" 

"Maginnis,"  said  Father  Blodgett,  faintly, 
"give  Mr.  Souerby  a  cup  of  tea  or  something. 
Excuse  me — I  must  go — I  am  rather  tired  on 
Sunday  evenings." 

Maginnis  followed  him  and  whispered. 

U'T  is  a  hard  world,  your  reverence !" 

"It  is,"  said  his  reverence. 


316 


IX 

THE  UNPAYING  GUEST 

TO  have  achieved  success  and  yet  to 
know  that  one  has  a  daughter  who 
will  not  believe  that  she  is  better  than 
her  husband  is  one  of  the  saddest  things  that 
can  occur  to  an  ambitious  mother-in-law, 
especially,  if,  like  "Herself,"  she  is  a  widow. 
The  Yellow  Peril,  which,  in  the  eyes  of  Her 
self,  had  threatened  her  adopted  country  was 
gone,  the  solitary  Chinaman  in  the  place  hav 
ing  given  up  washing  and  taken  to  vegetable 
gardening.  In  these  years  of  ease,  Mrs. 
Magee  had  turned  to  things  of  the  mind.  In 
the  intervals  of  controlling  her  business,  she 
read  various  historical  works,  purchased  from 

317 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

book-agents.  It  is  true  that  she  had  awakened 
some  esthetic  longings  in  the  heart  of  her 
daughter  Mary  Ann,  who  was  still  the  slave 
of  Maginnis.  In  her  lonely  condition  there 
was  nothing  left  for  her  but  to  change  her 
"state  of  life,"  as  she  expressed  it,  and  she  fixed 
her  eyes  on  Mr.  Michael  Carmody,  who  for 
some  months  had  been  an  unpaying  guest  in 
the  house  of  Maginnis:  he  had  come  with  the 
forsythia  in  February  and  remained  with  the 
asters  in  October.  This  intention  was,  how 
ever,  contingent  on  a  certain  possibility.  She 
was  about  to  confess  her  changed  view  of  life 
to  Mary  Ann  when  the  dazzling  result  of 
her  efforts  for  the  improvement  of  her  daugh 
ter  blazed  upon  her  and  stunned  her  into 
silence. 

Mary  Ann  had  been  induced  to  "take"  two 
quarters'  instruction  in  painting  at  the  con 
vent,  where  the  pious  teacher  marveled  at  the 
futility,  and  said  prayers  that  the  loss  of  time, 

318 


THE  UNPAYING  GUEST 

— a  sin  against  holy  poverty, — might  be  for 
given. 

On  a  mellow  morning  late  in  October,  Mary 
Ann  suddenly  appeared  with  the  completed 
fruit  of  her  labors.  It  was  a  highly  polished 
black  disk  on  which  a  large  crimson  rose,  sur 
rounded  by  buds  of  various  sizes,  seemed  to 
be  crawling  among  very  green,  serrated  foli 
age.  Maginnis,  when  he  saw  it,  had  honestly 
understood  the  masterpiece  to  represent  a 
portrait  of  a  large  lobster  and  four  smaller 
lobsters  "boiled  alive." 

"The  Lord  be  good  to  us !"  said  Mrs  Magee, 
as  she  held  the  work  of  art  at  arm's  length. 
"JT  is  beautiful  entirely !  It  has  its  own  mean- 
in',  Mary  Ann.  Many  a  time  in  the  old  days, 
when  I  was  bent  over  the  wash-tub,  with  these 
hands  that  can  wear  kids  now,  up  to  their 
elbows  in  the  suds,  and  you  only  a  girleen, 
did  I  think  of  a  time  when  you  would  take  vo 
cal  and  instrumental  and  art;  but  you  spoiled 

319 


THE  WILES   OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

it  all  by  marryin'  beneath  you.  That 's  done; 
what 's  done,  can't  be  undone." 

Herself  sighed  herself  into  silence,  and  fixed 
a  happy  stare  on  the  manifestation  of  her 
daughter's  talent.  The  lemon-colored  sun 
shine  of  the  early  noon  was  turned  to  crimson 
as  it  glowed  through  the  curtain  of  Virginia 
creeper  that  hung  over  the  window  of  the  little 
parlor  from  which  Mrs.  Magee  ruled  the  half- 
dozen  young  persons  who  worked  in  the  Olym- 
pia  Laundry.  It  paled  before  the  rich  plush 
brilliance  of  the  album  which  ornamented  the 
marble-topped  table,  and  irradiated  the  title  of 
a  large  gilt-edged  volume  entitled  "The  Sor 
rows  of  the  Empress  Josephine"  which  lay  near 
by.  ,  -.••'^,  .-.V-.  v 

"The  picture  has  a  meanin',  whether  you  in 
tended  it  or  not,"  continued  Herself,  thought 
fully.  "The  rose,  Mary  Ann,  is  you,  and  the 
buds  is  the  children." 

Mary  Ann  was  rosy  enough,  and  her  large 
320 


THE  UNPAYING  GUEST 

felt  hat,  adorned  with  clusters  of  blue  tulips 
and  loops  of  azure  ribbon,  gave  her  an  un 
usually  Rubensian  appearance.  She  looked 
closely  at  the  picture,  amazed  for  the  moment 
by  her  own  genius;  but  she  was  a  loyal  soul, 
and  therefore  she  said  somewhat  resentfully: 

"But  where  's  Maginnis  ?" 

"He  's  not  in  it,"  retorted  Herself  emphat 
ically.  "And  he  's  no  right  to  be.  It  would 
serve  him  right,  if  you  'd  leave  him.  What 
with  me  payin'  the  way  of  Thomas  Francis 
and  Dominick  Raymond  at  the  boardin'-school 
in  Baltimore,  you,  if  you  'd  give  yourself  up 
to  art,  could  get  along  very  well  without  him." 

"Leave  Maginnis!"  exclaimed  Mary  Ann, 
in  horror.  "I  thought  you  were  a  good 
Christian  woman,  Mother!" 

The  work  of  art  was  rudely  pushed  aside, 
and  Herself,  by  a  quick  movement,  saved  it 
from  destruction. 

"If  you  'd  cultivate  your  mind  more,  Mary 
321 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

Ann,  you  'd  know  the  ways  of  men  better. 
Time  after  time  have  I  asked  you  to  read  his 
tory.  Read  the  history  of  the  Empress  Jose 
phine, — which  a  certain  woman  sold  to  me  at 
one  dollar  a  month,  and  it 's  worth  its  weight 
in  gold, — and  you  '11  see  that  if  Josephine  had 
left  Napoleon  first,  he  could  n't  have  left  her, 
and  the  map  of  Europe  might  have  been  differ 
ent.  Oh,"  Mrs.  Magee  continued  bitterly, 
"it 's  not  my  daughter  you  are,  but  the  very 
twin  of  your  deceased  father.  He  liked  to  be 
trampled  on, — and  me  with  the  flower  of  my 
youth  witherin'  over  a  wash-tub.  Ah,  well," 
she  sighed,  "if  circumstances  were  what  they 
might  be,  maybe  I  'd  find  a  man  wanting  of 
me  yet ;  but  I  '11  not  speak  of  that  now.  When 
I  compare  Maginnis  with  your  guest,  Mr. 
Michael  Carmody,  I  feel  the  iron  in  my  soul; 
ar  I  the  Lord  keep  Carmody  from  them  that 
has  the  guile  of  the  birds  of  the  air  and  the  cun 
ning  of  the  beasts  of  the  earth — " 

322 


THE  UNPAYING  GUEST 

"Old  Carmody!"  exclaimed  Mary  Ann,  her 
face  flaming  under  her  blue  hat,  "Him!  He 
has  n't  paid  us  a  cent  for  months,  though  he 
boasts  of  his  grand  relations  in  Ireland  and 
his  theatrical  triumphs,  all  the  time  borrowing 
money  from  Maginnis  for  even  his  shaves  and 
his  tobacco.  It 's  hard  on  us,  with  Mary  and 
the  twins  to  take  care  of,  to  be  feeding  an  idle 
man  like  him.  And  Maginnis  was  that  mad 
the  other  night  he  set  the  rusty  windmill  be 
hind  the  house  going.  It  shrieked  all  night 
like  old  Satan ;  not  one  in  the  house  could  sleep, 
but  Carmody  said  it  was  refreshing  because  it 
reminded  him  of  the  Third  Avenue  Elevated. 
Mrs.  Towner  says  that  Maginnis  has  the  pa 
tience  of  Job." 

"My  poor  child!"  Mrs.  Magee  breathed 
softly,  "Ah,  my  poor,  poor  child!" 

"I  wouldn't  keep  the  lazy  creature  a  day 
longer  if  you  did  n't  insist  on  it.  Maginnis 
is  sick  of  him  and  his  boasts." 

323 


THE  WILES   OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"Michael  Carmody  has  been  used  to  a  great 
deal  Mary  Ann,"  said  Herself,  severely.  "He 
comes  of  fine  old  Kerry  stock.  He  lived  for 
years  in  New  York,  and  he  has  the  polish  of 
it  on  him  yet — " 

"But  that's  no  reason  why  he  should  bor 
row  money  for  his  shaves  and  tobacco  from 
Maginnis  day  after  day,  and  Maginnis  him 
self  trying  hard  to  make  both  ends  meet.  It 's 
only  for  fear  of  offending  you,  as  I  said,  that  I 
keep  him.  Mrs.  Towner  who  pays  her  board 
regularly,  thinks  we  're  foolish  for  feeding 
him.  'These  legs,'  he  said  the  other  day  when 
he  borrowed  Maginnis's  best  pair  of  pants, 
'were  once  applauded  to  the  echo  in  "Romeo" 
on  a  Broadway  stage,  and  they  're  reduced  to 
wearing1  an  ordinary  man's  breeches !'  It 's 
no  wonder  Maginnis  loses  patience.  In  truth, 
he  'd  turn  Carmody  out  of  doors  to-morrow, 
he  'd  do  anything  to  be  rid  of  him,  if  I  did  n't 
keep  respect  for  you  before  his  mind." 

324 


THE  UNPAYING  GUEST 

"Ah,  Mary  Ann,  since  I  Ve  been  readin'  the 
story  of  Josephine, — which  I  subscribed  to  at 
the  request  of  Mrs.  Towner,  your  boarder, — 
I  have  learned  that  Maginnis  has  no  more  spirit 
than  Code  Napoleon,  the  only  one  of  the  per- 
fid-i-ous  Emperor's  brothers  that  seems  to  have 
had  no  character  and  does  nothing  but  be 
named  in  history,  and  that  even  poor  Jose 
phine  had  more  energy  than  you.  Carmody's 
uncle  is  Tim  O'Connell, — a  near  friend 
of  the  Liberator's  family,  the  O'Connell's 
of  Cahirceveen, — and  he  '11  have  a  snug 
fortune  of  his  own,  so  you  see  he  has  a 
right  to  boast;  and  last  week  I  had  a  letter 
that  Uncle  Tim  Js  not  expected  to  live,  and 
I  'm  expecting  another.  Sure,  Carmody  's 
asked  me  twice  to  have  him.  'Mrs.  Magee,' 
he  said,  'these  arms  that  have  strangled  Desde- 
mona  in  many  a  one-night  stand  in  the  West 
and  were  almost  reduced  to  vaudeville  by  the 
persecution  of  the  managers  are  at  your  dis- 

325 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

posal  for  better  or  for  worse/  He  's  comin' 
again  to-night,  Mary  Ann,  and  I  '11  take  him 
• — if  his  uncle  is  no  better." 

Mary  Ann's  lips  fell  open;  she  was  incredu 
lous. 

"I  can't  believe  it,  Mother,"  she  said  "I  'm 
sure  Maginnis  would  find  a  way  of  preventing 
it." 

"Maginnis !"  exclaimed  Herself,  indignantly. 
"And  is  the  likes  of  him  to  come  between  the 
course  of  true  love  and  me?  Don't  be  afraid 
that  the  little  I  have  won't  go  to  the  twins  when 
the  cold  tombstone  is  laid  over  me,  if  that's 
what  you  're  thinkin'  of.  Maginnis,  indeed ! 
It 's  time,  Mary  Ann,  that  you  'd  open  your 
eyes  to  the  attention  Mrs.  Towner  is  payin'  to 
your  unhappy  husband." 

"Mrs.  Towner!"  Mary  Ann's  eyes  bulged. 
"Mrs.  Towner  's  been  boarding  with  us  since 
June  and  she  's  always  paid  her  way.  It 's 
she  that  calls  your  fine  Carmody  'the  unpaying 

326 


THE  UNPAYING  GUEST 

guest/  and  she  's  been  kind  to  the  children, 
and  she  's  a  widow  without  even  chick  or  child. 
And  a  hard  life  she  has — out  early  and  late 
trying  to  sell  people  books  that  don't  want 
them.  I  've  heard  Carmody  himself  say," 
Mary  Ann  added  with  a  touch  of  malice,  "that 
if  she  had  his  genius,  with  her  figure,  she  'd 
make  a  great  success  on  the  stage." 

"Mary  Ann/'  said  Herself,  "if  you  're  a 
woman,  you  '11  give  up  Maginnis,  or  make  that 
woman,  with  her  dyed  pompeydoor  and  her 
painted  cheeks,  leave  the  house." 

Mary  Ann's  face  expressed  a  certain 
triumph. 

"You  've  always  said  that  no  other  woman 
would  look  at  Maginnis  but  me,"  she  began. 

"At  a  certain  age,"  said  Herself,  cuttingly, 
"our  sex  is  n't  particular ;  and  to  a  woman 
brought  up  with  the  natives,  any  Irishman  has 
his  attractions — and  she  with  her  smooth 
tongue  and  her  pompeydoor." 

327 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"Oh,  Mother,  I'm  surprised  at  you!"  cried 
Mary  Ann,  really  hurt  and  shocked.  "I  don't 
believe  it;  but  I  '11  see  Father  Blodgett." 

"Don't  be  runnin'  to  priests  with  questions 
your  own  conscience  can  settle,"  said  Herself. 
'Maginnis  is  makin'  love  to  another  woman/ 
you  '11  say.  'I  don't  believe  it/  his  Reverence 
will  answer.  'It 's  true/  you  '11  say,  not  want- 
in'  to  bring  my  name  intil  it.  Then  go  and 
be  a  better  wife/  he  '11  say ;  for,  after  all,  a 
priest 's  only  a  man,  and  he  '11  be  for  standin' 
up  for  his  own  sex.  That 's  the  reason  the 
blackest  infidels  like  religion  in  their  wives ;  the 
priests  are  all  with  the  men." 

"And  he  'd  be  right,"  cried  Mary  Ann  burst 
ing  into  tears,  "for  I  'm  sure  he  's  too  good  for 


me." 


"That  I  should  live  to  hear  this !"  exclaimed 
Herself,  throwing  her  hands  toward  heaven. 
"Mary  Ann,  you  '11  decide  at  once  that  you  or 

328 


THE  UNPAYING  GUEST 

Mrs.  Towner  will  leave  the  house,  or  I  '11  dis 
inherit  the  twins." 

Mary  Ann  hesitated.  To  doubt  Maginnis 
would  be  rank  treason;  to  believe  that  the 
splendid  and  imposing  book-agent,  Mrs.  Juno 
Fortescue  Towner,  as  her  cards  read,  was  pay 
ing  attention  to  Maginnis  would  have  been 
rather  flattering  to  her  own  taste,  if  she  could 
have  believed  it. 

Mrs.  Juno  Fortescue  Towner  was  a  large- 
bosomed  and  grandiose-looking  widow,  gen 
erally  attired  in  purple  and  mauve  colors, 
whose  cheeks  were  toned  by  powder  and  rouge. 
Her  deportment  was  elegant  in  the  extreme 
when  on  duty ;  but,  after  the  labors  of  the  day, 
her  splendor  and  majesty  often  fell  from  her, 
She  was  then  only  a  tired  woman  who  longed 
for  rest,  who  dropped  tears  over  the  Maginnis 
twins,  and  wished  to  heaven  that  she  could 
stay  at  home  on  rainy  days  and  read  "The 

329 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

Duchess"  and  Rhoda  Broughton.  On  the 
death  of  her  husband,  she  had  taken  to  selling 
books.  She  assumed  it  as  a  road  to  the  stage, 
but  the  fates  had  not  been  propitious,  and  now 
she  wanted,  as  she  termed  it,  only  "disinter 
ested  love  and  appreciation."  In  fact,  the  poor 
woman,  who  seemed  so  imposing  to  the  un 
initiated,  and  so  much  of  an  adventuress  to  the 
worldly,  simply  wanted  to  look  out  of  the  win 
dow  of  any  place  that  she  could  call  her  own 
upon  the  bustling,  hurrying,  every-day  crowd. 
She  envied  the  easy-going  life  of  the  folk  at 
the  Curtice  Place,  where  nobody  was  ever  in 
a  hurry  and  where  the  only  cloud  was  the 
threatening  pressure  of  Herself  in  the  distance. 
Mr.  Michael  Carmody  found  her  sympathetic; 
he  had  sung  and  danced  in  good  old  Harrigan 
and  Hart  times,  when  his  brogue  was  inimi 
table,  and  even  now  he  could  sing  "The  Kerry 
Dance"  in  a  voice — somewhat  muffled  in  the 
high  places — that  filled  Mrs.  Juno  Fortescue 

330 


Even  now  lie  could  sing  "  The  Kerry  Dance 


THE  UNPAYING  GUEST 

Towner  with  longings  for  her  youth.  The 
great  shock  of  red  hair  that  had  once  covered 
the  head  of  Mr.  Michael  Carmody  was  sprink 
led  with  gray  and  it  was  very  thin  about  the 
temples;  his  shoulders  were  slightly  bent,  and 
the  legs  that  had  been  once — the  story  was 
apocryphal — those  of  Romeo,  were  thin  and 
shriveled,  and  not  improved  by  the  fringes 
which  much  wear  had  added  to  his  trousers. 
He  was  never  weary  of  retailing  the  incidents 
of  his  debut.  He  had  driven  the  horses  of  the 
first  real  fire-engine  seen  on  any  stage,  in 
one  of  Mr.  Augustin  Daly's  early  plays,  and 
he  declared  with  deep  bitterness  that  the  fas 
tidious  manager  would  have  cast  him  for  the 
melancholy  Jaques  had  he  been  willing  to  have 
a  really  perfect  nose  "built  up." 

"Look  at  it!"  he  frequently  said.      "With 
a  touch  of  grease  paint  't  would  have  graced 
Julius  Ccesar,  and  he  called  it  a  pug!     And 
20     -  333 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

that  after  I  'd  given  'All  the  world  's  a  stage' 
in  a  way  that  was  never  done  before!" 

Mrs.  Juno  Fortescue  Towner — her  name  had 
been  Jane  Turner — loved  theatrical  people  and 
theatrical  anecdotes.  She  hung  on  his  stories, 
and  made  him  repeat  them,  in  the  evenings 
when,  smoking  his  unwilling  host's  mixture  in 
the  one  brier-wood  pipe,  with  his  feet  in  the 
same  host's  only  pair  of  slippers,  he  held  forth. 
On  these  occasions,  seated  in  the  only  comfort 
able  chair  in  the  kitchen,  he  lectured  on  the 
lights  and  shadows  in  the  lives  of  those  who  are 
as  stars  to  the  multitude.  Maginnis  and  Mary 
Ann  were  kind-hearted  people,  and  they  heard 
with  horror  the  stories  he  poured  out  night 
after  night  of  the  doings  of  the  people  of  the 
stage. 

"He  '11  roast  in  purgatory  for  it !"  exclaimed 
Mary  Ann  more  than  once. 

"If  I  meet  him  in  purgatory,"  said  Maginnis, 
"I  '11  be  surprised  and  disappointed.  'T  is 

334 


THE  UNPAYING  GUEST 

lower  he  '11  go."  And  he  pointed  downward 
significantly. 

Once  when  Mary  Ann  happened  to  mention 
an  actress  whom  she  had  once  seen  and  adored, 
Carmody  said  cruelly :  "Opium.  Drinks  it  like 
a  fish."  Mary  Ann  burst  into  tears,  and  Ma- 
ginnis  smote  the  pipe  out  of  his  guest's  mouth 
in  a  rage. 

"I  '11  teach  you,"  he  said,  "to  say  things  like 
that !"  And  Carmody  had  slunk  off  to  bed. 

"You  know,"  Maginnis  added,  when  the 
guest  had  gone — "you  know  the  actors  can't  be 
so  bad  as  he  says,  Mrs.  Towner.  You  seem 
to  be  a  kind-hearted  woman;  how  can  you  lis 
ten  to  him,  ma'am?" 

"Of  course  I  don't  believe  all  he  says,"  Mrs. 
Towner  had  admitted;  "but  they  were  his  ri 
vals  in  the  old  days,  and  genius  is  never  toler 
ant  of  rivalry.  Besides,  you  know  everybody 
likes  to  hear  evil  of  stage  people." 

"Lord  in  heaven!"   exclaimed   Mary  Ann, 

335 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

crossing  herself,  appalled.  "If  the  creature 
had  a  good  wife,  she  'd  keep  him  in  order." 

"I  can  see  his  faults,"  said  Mrs.  Towner, 
frankly,  "and  /  think  that  after  a  month  or  so 
some  of  the  Broadway  varnish  might  be 
knocked  off  him  by  an  energetic  woman  who  'd 
be  willing  to  sacrifice  herself." 

Mrs.  Towner  actually  winked  at  Maginnis, 
and  her  face  took  on  a  determined  expres 
sion. 

Carmody  was  the  sharpest  thorn  in  the  life 
of  Maginnis;  he  boasted,  he  borrowed,  he 
lounged  about  the  house  from  morning  to  night. 
He  was  harmless  and  good-natured,  except  in 
speech  where  the  members  of  the  "profession" 
were  concerned,  but  of  a  selfishness  in  small 
matters  that  made  the  life  of  Maginnis  a  bur 
den.  Mary  Ann,  under  the  spell  of  Herself, 
bore  the  yoke,  and  Maginnis  was  compelled  to 
endure  it.  But  a  time  was  at  hand,  he  felt, 
when  Carmody  must  be  made  to  slide  as  down 

336 


THE  UNPAYING  GUEST 

a  greased  pole  from  the  sacred  precincts  of  his 
home. 

"Would  you  marry  him?"  asked  Maginnis 
of  the  widow,  with  a  bluntness  which  produced 
no  resentment  on  the  lady's  part. 

"I  'd  make  a  great  change  in  him,  if  I  did — 
and  he  has  asked  me  twice/'  she  said.  "I  'd 
make  a  man  of  him.  He  's  never  known  a  real 
American  woman  in  his  life,  and  that 's  the 
trouble  with  him.  Some  of  my  late  Jack's  rel 
atives  said  I  threw  him  downstairs  because  he 
asked  me  to  carry  up  a  pitcher  of  ice-water  for 
him." 

"And  did  you?"  asked  Maginnis,  enthralled 
and  hopeful. 

"No,"  said  Mrs.  Juno  Fortescue  Towner, 
fiercely;  "he  ran — and  with  the  pitcher  after 
him." 

"And  it  hit  him?"  asked  Maginnis  in  a  glow. 
"What  can  be  done  once  can  be  done  again." 

"No,"  said  Mrs,  Juno  Fortescue  Towner; 
337 


THE  WILES   OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"even  in  my  excitement,  I  remembered  that  I 
was  a  lady,  and  I  aimed  for  the  left-hand  bend 
of  the  banister.  I  hope  I  'm  too  good  a  Chris 
tian  to  give  even  a  bad  husband  all  he  deserves. 
/  could  do  a  great  deal  with  Carmody.  He  is 
only  lazy  and  selfish,  and  most  lazy  and  selfish 
people  have  n't  really  bad  hearts ;  but  you  Ve 
got  to  pound  them  well  to  break  the  crust  off. 
If  I  thought  he  was  n't  a  wreck,  or  if  we  had 
anything  to  keep  us  till  I  brought  him  to  his 
senses,  I  'd  have  him  playing  in  vaudeville — 
weepy  parts,  with  an  Irish  brogue,  which  he 
can  use  when  he  chooses  to  make  the  tears 
come,  and  we  'd  be  living  quite  comfortably. 
I  'm  tired  of  this  life,  Maginnis." 

This  conversation  took  place  on  the  day  in 
October  when  Carmody,  unshaven,  unkempt, 
and  depressed,  had  walked  into  Bracton,  hav 
ing  been  refused  even  the  smallest  loan  by  Ma 
ginnis,  who  had  seen  him  the  night  before  de 
liberately  appropriate  all  the  tenderloin  of  the 

338 


THE  UNPAYING  GUEST 

beefsteak,  while  he  told  the  oft-repeated  tale 
of  how  he  had  refused  the  leading  part  in  "A 
Parisian  Romance"  because  Mansfield  had 
threatened  to  kill  him  if  he  took  it. 

Maginnis  and  Mrs.  Juno  Fortescue  Towner 
were  on  their  way  into  Bracton  and  had  just 
reached  a  pathetic  passage  in  their  talk,  at 
which  the  lady  sighed  over  the  improbability 
of  reforming  Mr.  Carmody  in  her  own  tender 
way,  when  they  reached  Giulio's  barber-shop. 
This  "Tonsorial  Emporium"  bristled  with  an 
nouncements  of  "Five-cent  shaves"  and  glow 
ing  advertisements  of  the  famous  "Sicilian 
Cream,"  made  in  the  macaroni  kettle  when  that 
utensil  was  not  used  by  Signora  Giulio,  which, 
with  massage  and  vapor  baths  (fifteen  cents), 
worked  wonders  on  the  male  complexion  every 
Saturday  night.  Opposite  Giulio's  was  the 
Olympia  Laundry.  Maginnis  caught  sight  of 
Mr.  Carmody  standing  behind  Giulio's  flamboy 
ant  sign ;  he  was  a  picture  of  woe ;  he  was  more 

339 


THE  WILES   OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

like  the  Apothecary  than  Romeo.  Maginnis 
saw  it  and  steered  Mrs.  Towner  away  from  the 
doleful  sight.  Mary  Ann  watched  her  hus 
band  from  her  mother's  parlor  window.  Mrs. 
Magee  pointed  out  Mrs.  Towner  with  a  scorn 
ful  finger. 

"My  poor  lamb!"  she  said.  "Look  at  the 
deceitful  piece,  and  you  believin'  in  him !  Sure, 
there  was  never  a  Maginnis  that  brought  any 
body  luck." 

Mary  Ann  was  unmoved  by  the  sight;  she 
was  quite  certain  that  Maginnis  was  not  to  be 
enticed  by  any  woman;  but  the  thought  of  her 
mother's  marriage  troubled  her.  At  this  mo 
ment  the  postman  appeared,  and  handed  Her 
self  an  envelop,  with  an  English  stamp,  from 
which  Herself  took  a  letter,  and  then  adjusted 
her  spectacles. 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  Mary  Ann 
saw  Mrs.  Towner  agree  apparently  with  resig 
nation  to  something  Maginnis  said;  then  the 

340 


THE  UNPAYING  GUEST 

lady  of  the  pompeydoor  turned  into  Crape 
Myrtle  Street,  on  her  way  to  dispose  of  "How 
to  Get  Rich  in  Wall  Street,"  or  the  other  cele 
brated  work,  "The  Sorrows  of  the  Empress  Jo 
sephine."  In  spite  of  her  purple  and  mauve 
chiffon,  she  looked  very  lonely  and  unhappy. 

"Carmody  would  give  her  an  interest  in  life," 
reflected  Maginnis,  "and  I  'm  of  the  opinion 
that  an  affectionate  woman  had  better  have  a 
bad  husband  than  none  at  all." 

Still  he  hesitated;  but  at  that  moment  Mrs. 
Towner  came  back  for  the  address  of  the  su 
perintendent  of  the  new  cotton  oil  works. 

"I  '11  tell  you  this,  ma'am,"  said  Maginnis, 
"that  if  Carmody  asks  you  again,  you  'd  better 
take  him.  I  am  informed  that  his  uncle  has 
one  of  the  finest  estates  in  Kerry,  and  he  's  the 
only  heir,  and  the  old  man  can't  last  a  year. 
That 's  why  I  'm  keeping  him  as  an  unpaying 
guest."  He  paused  and  added,  under  his 
breath,  "the  Lord  forgive  me!"  But  he  went 

341 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

on:  "Herself  told  me  that  five  thousand 
pounds  would  n't  cover  his  riches,  and  he  of  a 
fine  family.  His  great-grandmother  on  the 
mother's  side  was  the  third  wife  of  Bart  O'Con- 
nell,  who  was  the  great  uncle  of  the  great  Dan 
iel."  Mrs.  Towner  appeared  listless.  "And 
the  money  's  sure  to  come  to  him !" 

"I  don't  know  about  it,"  said  Mrs.  Towner. 
Then,  oppressed  by  the  thought  of  the  weari 
ness  of  her  work,  she  said,  with  a  show  of  en 
ergy  :  "Well,  if  he  asks  me  again,  I'll  take  him. 
And  you  say  he  really  has  a  rich  uncle  ?" 

"Haven't  I  said  so?"  asked  Maginnis,  re 
proachfully.  Mrs.  Towner  nodded. 

"It's  a  bargain,"  she  said.  "He  could  at 
least  carry  these  accursed  volumes,  that  some 
days  are  as  heavy  as  lead." 

Mary  Ann,  with  an  open  letter  she  had  taken 
from  her  mother  in  her  hand,  waved  both  her 
arms  imploringly  toward  Maginnis;  but  Her 
self,  with  stern  displeasure  in  her  face,  took 

342 


THE  UNPAYING  GUEST 

the  missive  from  her,  and  pulled  down  the 
shade;  and,  alas!  Maginnis,  unaware  of  what 
was  going  on  on  the  other  side  of  that  window- 
shade,  seized  Carmody  by  the  shoulder  and 
dragged  him  from  behind  Julio  Giulio's  red- 
and-yellow  sign,  on  which  were  advertised  hot 
baths,  five-cent  shaves,  facial  massage  with  Si 
cilian  Cream,  a  panacea  famous  against  the 
evil  eye,  and  the  sailings  of  the  Mediterranean 
line.  Mary  Ann  tried  to  raise  the  window- 
shade  again;  "I  want  a  word  with  Maginnis," 
she  said  excitedly.  "I  want  to  warn  him  that 
you  're  about  to  leave  us,  Mother ;  and  I  never, 
never  thought  you  would!" 

"I  'm  my  own  mistress,"  returned  Herself, 
with  dignity,  "and  you  '11  stay  with  me,  or  I  '11 
leave  you." 

Mary  Ann,  with  her  handkerchief  to  her 
eyes,  sank  into  the  depths  of  the  red  plush  sofa. 

"Carmody,"  Maginnis  began,  with  great 
sweetness  of  manner,  "I  've  a  tender  heart." 

343 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

Carmody  cast  a  look  of  fire  at  his  host.  "I 
have  heard  you  say  it,  but  I  have  n't  noticed 
myself.  It 's  hard  for  a  Carmody  to  be  be 
holden  to  a  Maginnis.  When  the  Carmodys 
were  feasting  in  their  own  castle,"  continued 
this  representative  of  that  august  family,  twirl 
ing  his  unkempt  mustache,  "the  Maginnises 
were  boiling  potato  skins  in  water  and  calling 
it  soup." 

"Stop  that,  Mike,"  said  Maginnis;  "don't 
be  insulting  me,  and  me  holding  out  the  hand 
of  peace.  Come  into  Giulio's  and  have  a  shave 
and  a  hot  bath  and  the  whole  bill  of  fare.  I  Ve 
a  tender  heart ;  I  'm  all  sentiment ;  there  's  a 
lady  in  love  with  you,  and  I  'm  the  last  man 
to  stand  in  the  way  of  the  tender  passion." 

"Whisper!"  said  Carmody,  his  watery  blue 
eyes  brightening.  "Is  it  Herself?" 

"I  wish  it  was,"  returned  Maginnis,  fer 
vently;  "from  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  I  wish 
it  was !  But,  there,  no  such  good  luck  as  your 

344 


THE  UNPAYING  GUEST 

taking  that  old  spitfire  to  Ireland  with  you! 
No,  't  is  the  most  beauteous  of  her  sex,  Mrs. 
Towner." 

Carmody  straightened  himself,  and  placed 
his  right  hand  sentimentally  in  the  left-hand 
pocket  of  a  threadbare  blue  Norfolk  jacket. 

"I  can't  help  attracting  the  ladies.  There 
was  Myrtle  Wyncomb — she  was  called  the 
American  Lydia  Thompson — she  used  to  be 
great  in  burlesques — she  took  to  drink  for  my 
sake,  and  now  she  's  doing  old  woman  in  vaude 
ville.  And  when  Edith  de  Wild  was  a  sou- 
brette  with  Harrigan  and  Hart — oh!"  he 
sighed  loudly,  "you  'd  never  understand,  Ma- 
ginnis,  you  Ve  never  been  on  the  Great  White 
Way." 

"The  lady  Js  willing,"  said  Maginnis,  dryly, 
"and  I  don't  object  to  helping  you  along — 
blood  's  thicker  than  water — to  the  extent  of  a 
new  suit  of  clothes  and  what  Giulio  can  do,  for 
you  look  like  a  tramp." 

345 


THE  WILES   OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"You're  a  brute,  Maginnis!  I  know  I'm 
down  on  my  luck;  but  only  for  a  time.  But  I 
tell  you  this,  if  they  put  'Macbeth'  on  next 
autumn,  they  can't  do  without  me.  But 
enough.  Mrs.  Juno  Fortescue  Towner  is  a 
woman  who  could  help  me ;  she  has  a  fine  pres 
ence,  literary  talent,  and  you  have  led  me  to 
believe  that  she  has  prudently  amassed  an 
amount  sufficient  to  keep  me  from  want  while 
I  await  that  opportunity  which  the  vile  taste  of 
the  public  and  the  cupidity  of  managers  cannot 
always  deprive  me  of." 

In  a  few  minutes  Carmody  was  stifled  by 
soap-suds  and  silent  in  the  hands  of  Giulio. 
Maginnis  went  over  to  the  postoffice  to  arrange 
some  political  work  with  a  friend  or  two,  and, 
on  his  return,  he  found  Carmody  quite  rosy 
and  fresh  after  all  the  delicate  attentions — 
which  cost  Maginnis  a  dollar  and  a  half — that 
the  artistic  Giulio  could  show  him  for  the 
money.  About  the  suit  of  clothes  Maginnis 

346 


THE  UNPAYING  GUEST 

and  the  unpaying  guest  had  an  altercation — 
the  guest  insisting  that  the  form  that  had  ex 
cited  intense  enthusiasm  and  had  rivaled 
Dixie's  in  "Adonis"  should  be  clothed  more  in 
the  manner  of  Solomon.  It  was  finally  pur 
chased.  Then  Maginnis,  wondering  what 
Mary  Ann  would  say  to  this  reckless  ex 
penditure,  led  the  haughty  Carmody  into  the 
modest  restaurant  where  Mrs.  Towner  took 
her  midday  meal  of  tea  and  chocolate  eclairs. 
She  was  there.  Maginnis  ordered  a  somewhat 
more  substantial  refection,  and  after  plying  his 
knife  and  fork  for  a  proper  time,  he  left  the 
lovers  together. 

"If  it  turns  out  well,  't  will  be  a  good  day's 
work,"  he  murmured  as  he  made  his  way  home 
ward,  with  the  intention  of  digging  potatoes 
during  the  rest  of  the  afternoon ;  but  a  boy  in 
tercepted  him  with  a  message  from  the  post 
master,  whose  place  he  sometimes  took.  When 
he  reached  home  at  last  he  found  that  Mary 

347 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

Ann  was  still  absent.  It  was  after  six  o'clock. 
The  small  colored  servant  handed  him  a  note, 
which  had  been  left,  with  a  latch-key,  on  the 
kitchen  table.  It  was  written  on  gray  paper, 
in  purple  ink,  with  great  flourishes.  In  it 
Mrs.  Towner  said: 

"You  have  been  so  good  to  us!  Everything 
is  arranged;  we  were  married  at  five  o'clock, 
and  we  start  for  Baltimore  on  the  seven  o'clock 
train.  My  husband  will  be  in  time  the  best  of 


men." 


Maginnis  threw  himself  on  the  chintz-cov 
ered  settee  in  the  kitchen  and  howled  for  joy. 

Now  he  could  smoke  his  own  pipe.  Now  he 
could  speak  in  his  own  house  without  contra 
diction.  Now  he  could  lounge  in  his  big  chair 
after  the  labors  of  the  day.  No  more  stories 
of  how  Carmody  set  actress  after  actress  mad 
of  love  for  him;  now  peace.  "If  it  had  only 
been  Herself,  and  she  on  the  train  with  him," 
he  thought,  perceiving  a  fly  in  the  ointment. 

348 


THE  UNPAY1NG  GUEST 

"If  it  only  had,  a  happy  man  I  'd  be  this  night/' 
The  door  opened,  and  in  came  Herself,  in 
her  best  bonnet,  with  the  purple  plumes,  and 
her  gold  watch-chain  dangling  over  her  ma 
genta  poplin  gown.  Mary  Ann  followed  her, 
looking  wretched  and  tearful. 

Maginnis  was  petrified  by  this  apparition. 
It  meant  no  good;  he  knew  it.  He  had  not 
strength  enough  to  move. 

"Maginnis,"  she  said  haughtily,  holding  the 
door  half-open,  "I  Ve  not  come  as  your  mother- 
in-law  to  make  a  friendly  visit.  Such  you  Ve 
made  impossible  by  your  low  manners.  I  en 
ter  as  a  bride  elect;  Mike  Carmody's  uncle  died 
nine  days  ago,  and  he  's  come  into  his  fortune. 
Yesterday  he  laid  it  at  my  feet,  and  I  'm  here 
to  bring  the  good  news  to  him,  and  to  marry 
him,  as  he  asked  me.  We  '11  go  back  to  Kerry, 
where  I  hope  to  live  for  the  rest  of  my  life,  and 
drown  in  connubial  bliss  the  tribulations  I  have 
known  in  this  country,  which  I  'm  sorry  I  ever 

349 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

came  to,  for  here  my  daughter  has  demeaned 
herself.  Where  is  Carmody  ?" 

"Gone,"  said  Maginnis — "gone,  gone  with 
his  lawful  wife,  Mrs.  Towner."  And  he 
turned  his  face  to  the  wall.  "Oh,  Mary  Ann, 
Mary  Ann,  the  heart  knows  its  own  bitter 
ness  !"  he  moaned. 

"Gone !"  exclaimed  Herself — "gone,  and 
with  that — pompeydoor !"  and  she  slammed  the 
door  and  stalked  out  into  the  gloom. 

"But,  Maginnis,"  said  Mary  Ann,  joyously, 
"if  he  's  gone  and  married  Herself  can't  marry 
him,  and  then  she  will  not  leave  us !" 

"Say  no  more,  Mary  Ann,"  he  moaned.  He 
thought  of  Giulio's  charges  and  the  suit  of 
clothes.  Life  was  one  vast  blackness.  "Say 
no  more !"  he  groaned. 


350 


X 

THE    CONVERSION    OF    SEXTON    MAGINNIS 

AFTER  the  marriage  of  Mrs.  Juno  For- 
tescue  Towner  to  Mr.  Michael  Car- 
mody,  echoes  of  her  prosperity  floated 
to  the  humble  home  of  Maginnis  at  the  Cur 
tice  Place.  That  she  had  leisure  was  evident, 
since  hardly  a  week  passed  without  a  letter, 
written  in  purple  ink,  in  a  large  hand,  reaching 
Mary  Ann  Maginnis.  Mrs.  Carmody  was 
happy  with  "her  noble  husband,"  who  was  now 
earning  his  "hundred  and  fifty  a  week"  on  the 
"legitimate"  stage.  "No  human  being  could 
ever  say  with  truth  that  Juno  Carmody  had 
forced  the  man  she  loved  to  give  up  his  art  even 
for  the  best  suite  of  rooms  in  one  of  New 

351 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

York's  smartest  apartment  houses,  in  which  a 
number  of  the  Tour  Hundred'  had  rooms  no 
better  than  hers/'  Mrs.  Carmody  wrote. 
Michael  Carmody  had  come  into  his  own  at 
last;  she  had  come  into  her  own  at  last.  He 
was  now  acting  the  title-role  in  her  own  trag 
edy  of  "Heliogabalus"  to  crowded  houses. 
This  information  was  reiterated. 

"She  's  got  him  under  her  thumb,"  said  Ma- 
ginnis,  with  satisfaction,  when  Mary  Ann  had 
read  aloud  one  of  the  most  glowing  of  these 
epistles,  which  read  like  a  page  from  the  in 
imitable  "Duchess,"  "and  she 's  made  him 
work — more  power  to  her.  Carmody  had  his 
faults,"  added  Maginnis,  with  a  sigh,  "but  I  'd 
give  a  great  deal  to  hear  him  sing  The  Kerry 
Dance.'  Sure  the  freshness  of  an  Irish  May 
mornin'  came  over  me  when  I  heard  his  voice 
— bad  luck  to  him !" 

These  letters  filled  both  Maginnis  and  his 
wife  with  a  consuming  desire  to  see  New  York. 

352 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  MAGINNIS 

Mrs.  Carmody's  pen  was  eloquent  when  she 
wrote  about  the  gay  "White  Way,"  and  Mary 
Ann  began  to  dream  of  "sky-scrapers,"  the 
electric  lights,  the  luxury  of  Mrs.  Carmody's 
"flat,"  and  Mr.  Michael  Carmody's  "art." 
Maginnis  seldom  had  money  ahead,  and  a  trip 
to  the  metropolis  seemed  a  hopeless  fantasy  un 
til,  as  he  expressed  it,  "a  bolt  from  the  blue 
knocked  him  into  smithereens."  The  remote 
cause  of  this  frenzied  change  was  the  need  of 
upholding  the  honor  of  the  House  of  Magee 
as  represented  by  Herself ;  the  immediate  cause 
was  the  visit  of  Mrs.  Magee's  nephew,  Mr. 
Martin  Dempsey.  Mr.  Dempsey,  at  the  age 
of  twenty-three,  had  come  from  his  father's 
comfortable  public  house  in  a  flourishing  town 
in  the  County  Kerry  to  take  a  look  at  America. 
He  was  a  tall  youth,  made  pallid  by  overmuch 
tea-drinking  (as  his  father  kept  a  public  house, 
he  was  not  allowed  to  touch  "spirits").  He 
frankly  owned  that  he  did  not  like  America; 

353 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

the  American  bacon  did  not  please  him,  and  he 
announced  that  if  he  had  to  work,  he  preferred 
to  work  at  home.  He  was  dissatisfied,  too,  he 
privately  informed  Maginnis,  by  his  aunt's 
social  position.  It  was  not  what  he  had  been 
led  to  expect.  Whatever  Mrs.  Magee's  opin 
ion  of  her  nephew  was,  she  heroically  kept  it  in 
her  own  mind. 

"Ah — oh,"  said  Maginnis  to  Mary  Ann, 
"Herself  's  been  attendin'  a  mission,  and  is  in 
a  state  of  grace ;  but  wait  till  she  gets  out  of  it, 
and  we  '11  have  her  opinion  of  this  upstart." 
In  the  meantime  the  nephew  played  music-hall 
airs  on  the  accordion,  and  tried  to  teach  Mary 
Ann  to  waltz  in  the  kitchen  of  the  Curtice 
Place.  "Look  at  the  gentility  of  him,  and  him 
just  from  the  old  sod,"  remarked  his  aunt. 
"He  has  n't  the  trace  of  a  brogue,  and  he  is  as 
content  with  his  tea  as  some  people — I  name 
no  names,  Mary  Ann — are  more  than  con 
tented  with  their  whisky." 

354 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  MAGINNIS 

Mary  Ann  understood  the  allusion,  and  cast 
down  her  eyes.  "When  I  see  the  like  of  him" 
commented  Maginnis,  on  being  informed  of 
this  remark, — Mary  Ann,  like  a  good  wife 
never  kept  anything  from  her  husband, — "I 
begin  to  believe  that  the  only  good  Irishmen  are 
in  America." 

Mr.  Dempsey,  who,  by  command  of  Herself, 
was  domiciled  at  the  Curtice  Place,  determined 
to  take  his  departure.  It  was  then  that  the 
bolt  from  the  blue  fell.  It  was  necessary  for 
the  honor  of  the  Magees  that  their  disdainful 
relative  should  be  "seen  off,"  but  Herself  could 
not  go  to  New  York.  The  aftermath  of  neu 
ralgia  which  regularly  followed  the  annual  and 
breezy  housecleaning  at  the  Olympia  Laundry 
was  upon  her.  She  moaned  over  her  condi 
tion,  and  finally  suggested  that  Mary  Ann 
should  go  in  her  place  as  far  as  the  steamship 
pier.  "The  Kerry  people  would  make  a  long 
story  of  it  if  the  poor,  lonely  boy  had  to  leave 

355 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON    MAGINNIS 

America  with  never  a  chick  or  child  to  see  him 
off.  You  '11  go,  Mary  Ann." 

"Is  it  me?"  asked  Mary  Ann.  "I  'd  be  as 
timid  as  a  hare  in  that  big  place  alone." 

No  more  was  said,  but  when  she  reached 
home  she  found  a  more  than  usually  pictur 
esque  letter  from  Juno  Carmody.  It  described 
the  furniture  of  her  "flat"  in  the  "Lonsdale 
Arms," — the  number  of  buttons  on  the  bell 
boy  was  even  enumerated, — -which,  Mrs. 
Carmody  continued,  was  situated  "in  the  swag 
ger  Nineties."  To  Mary  Ann,  the  Nineties, 
the  Palisades,  and  the  Flatiron  Building  were 
equally  mysterious  and  entrancing.  There 
were  references  to  a  hurling  match  which  Mr. 
Carmody  had  attended,  and  this  made  the  eyes 
of  Maginnis  glitter  for  the  sport  of  his  youth. 

"That  would  be  the  best  of  all,"  he  said, 
"next  to  seeing  Mike  Carmody  in  'Helio-ga- 
boo'-lus.'  Accordin'  to  his  wife,  he's  great  en 
tirely  in  the  part."  Maginnis  listened  with 

356 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  MAGINNIS 

ardor  in  his  soul  while  Mary  Ann  read  of  what 
her  correspondent  called  "the  Paradise  of 
dreams  realized."  Shakspere  was  out  of 
fashion  in  New  York,  she  assured  Mary  Ann; 
not  even  the  genius  of  Carmody  could  revive 
him.  She,  devoted  to  Art  and  Carmody,  would 
have  perished  rather  than  live  on  the  wages  of 
infamy  earned  in  vaudeville,  but  happily  New 
York  demanded  Carmody  in  something 
splendid,  something  that  Shakspere  might  have 
conceived  had  he  known  Carmody.  And  New 
York  now  had  it  in  the  tragedy  of  "Helioga- 
balus,"  which  she,  the  once  poor,  struggling 
widow,  had  been  inspired  by  him  to  write. 

"Does  he  sing  The  Kerry  Dance'  between 
the  acts?"  asked  Maginnis.  "That  would 
bring  down  the  house." 

Mary  Ann  shook  her  head.  "He  's  above 
that." 

"I  pity  him  then,"  said  Maginnis,  emphat 
ically. 

357 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

Mrs.  Carmody  continued  to  describe  the 
wonderful  success  of  "Heliogabalus,"  and  then 
she  analyzed  the  drama.  "I  was,  as  the 
authoress,  called  out  thirteen  times  after  the 
third  act,"  she  wrote,  "and  the  spangled  satin 
and  chiffon  of  my  court  train  were  quite  worn 
out  trailing  over  the  stage." 

It  appeared  from  the  analysis  that  Mrs. 
Carmody,  now  known  as  the  famous  author 
Juno  Fortescue,  could  take  liberties  with  his 
tory.  She  had  represented  Heliogabalus  as  a 
gentle  creature,  forced  into  wickedness  by  the 
world,  and  especially  by  the  Roman  senate, 
which  had  passed  a  decree  forbidding  him  to 
marry  a  beautiful  slave-girl.  The  great  scene, 
Mrs.  Carmody  wrote,  was  in  the  third  act, 
after  Heliogabalus  had  determined  to  smother 
the  senators  with  roses,  in  order  to  soothe  the 
pangs  of  death  which  they  richly  deserved. 
"The  showers  of  roses,  red,"  Mrs.  Carmody 
wrote,  "as  the  heart  of  love  and  June,  amber 

358 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  MAGINNIS 

as  the  dying  blush  in  a  daffodil  sky,  and  white 
as  the  undriven  snow,  illuminated  by  a  crimson 
calcium  light,  drift  heavily  and  sullenly  down. 
Carmody  is  simply  grand  here.  He  stands, — 
you  should  see  him  in  a  Roman  toga, — on  an 
atrium  and  says : 

So  ye  must  die  in  odorantine  scent 
Which  wells  in  clouds  in  the  ambrosial  air, 
And,  like  the  Orient  with  its  frankincense, 
Chokes  while  it  giveth  life.     O  luscious  rose, 
Thou  emblem  of  my  pride,  which  cannot  see 
Aught  but  the  joy  of  death;  ah,  strew  them 

deep 

And  bury  them,  the  cold  and  soulless  men 
Who  know  not  love !     Let  not  the  cruel  thorns 
Sting  them  amain;   I   would  not  have  them 

know 
The    pangs    that    are    not    needful!     Yellow 


rose—" 


"Who  says  that?"  asked  Maginnis. 

((Helio-ga-boo'-lus." 

"And  they  dyin'?" 

"Yes." 

359 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"It  isn't  natural,"  said  Maginnis,  indig 
nantly  knocking  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe  by 
striking  it  on  the  kitchen  table. 

Mary  Ann  seldom  felt  superior  to  her  hus 
band,  but  she  did  now. 

"Maginnis,"  she  said,  "from  what  I  can 
make  out,  you  can't  be  legitimate  in  the 
theater  and  be  natural,  too.  Carmody  was 
natural  in  'The  Kerry  Dance' ;  that 's  the 
reason  he  despised  himself  for  doing  it.  If 
you  're  natural  in  a  big,  fashionable  theater, 
you  're  gone." 

"I  was  never  much  for  poetry,"  continued 
Maginnis,  "except  for  'Moore's  Melodies'  and 
'Willy  Reilly  and  His  Colleen  Bawn.'  But 
let 's  hear  the  rest  of  it." 

"Then,"  continued  Mary  Ann,  reading  Mrs. 
Carmody's  letter  slowly,  "the  slave-girl  Au- 
relia  begs  for  the  life  of  Glaucus,  the  youngest 
and  handsomest  of  the  senators.  I  intended 
to  act  Aurelia  myself,  but  Carmody  thinks  I 

360 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  MAGINNIS 

am  too  patrician-looking  to  take  the  part  of  a 
slave-girl.  When  Aurelia  had  finished  her 
speech  there  was  not  a  dry  eye  in  the  theater. 
She  says: 

I  will  not, — nay,  I  cannot  call  thee  god, 
O  Emperor,  though  thou  art,  indeed,  a  god, 
Until  thou  givest  me  from  yonder  pyre 
All  scented  with  the  odors  of  the  East, 
That  pile  of  death  upon  the  marble  floor, 
Making  a  stain  of  red,  where  Marshal  Niel 
Mingles  with  pink  La  France,  when  Jacque 
minot, 

Thy  favorite  flower,  Emperor,  flames  among 
The  glory  of  Die  John,  and  roseate  Lancaster 
Tinges  the  snow  of  York — the  one  I  love ! 
Oh,  spare  him!     See  the  odiferant  buds 
Rise  to  his  very  throat.     I  beg  thee,  spare 
him!" 

"It 's  not  natural,"  reasserted  Maginnis. 
"It 's  poetry,"  said  Mary  Ann. 
"G'wan!"    answered   Maginnis,    resignedly. 
"You  cannot  imagine  what  Carmody  is  in 
the  next  speech,  where  he  says,  to  slow  music, 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

adapted  by  himself  from  the  well  known  waltz, 
'My  Queen': 

O  thou  Aurelia,  do  not  think  I  change 
My  great  ideals  so  lightly.     They  must  die, 
And  he,  too,  with  them;  yet  I  soften  pangs 
With  roses  and  the  pulsings  of  the  lute — 

"Here  Aurelia  starts.  She  alone  is  aware 
that  Glaucus  is  really  the  brother  of  Helio-ga- 
boo'-lus,  and  though  she  knows  that  it  is  dan 
gerous  to  remind  even  Emperors  of  relatives 
they  do  not  wish  to  acknowledge,  her  brave 
spirit  does  not  quail : 

He  is  thy  brother,  hidden  for  a  time 

By  one  who  hated  thee,  who  thought  to  still 

Thy  young  affections  by  disuse,  and  make  thee 

monstrous. 
O  my  Emperor,  how  oft  the  loving  heart  can 

see 
To  love  indeed  where  there  is  none  to  love ! 

Helio-ga-boo'-lus:    T  is  true ! 
Aurelia:  This  Glaucus  is  thy  brother! 

Hello- ga-boo'-lus:     Say  not  so !     'T  is  true  in 
deed? 

362 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  MAGINNIS 

My  very   heart-strings   twang,   and   like   the 

minstrel  harp, 
Struck  by  the  sounds  of  home,  I  echo  love. 

"Carmody  is  magnificent  here. 

Then  for  thy  love,  and  also  for  the  love 
I  bear  my  youngest  brother,  I  forbear 
To  lessen  Glaucus'  life.  Why  let  him  live ! 

"While  the  roses  fall,  Chopin's  'Funeral 
March'  is  played  by  a  concealed  orchestra." 

"What's  that  about  choppin'?"  asked  Ma- 
ginnis,  growing  a  little  sleepy. 

But  Mary  Ann  went  calmly  on:  "When 
Carmody  waved  his  scepter  and  embraced 
Glaucus,  who  rushed  from  among  the  dying 
senators,  the  applause  was  deafening;  I,  even 
I,  wept.  A  lady  in  the  right-hand  box,  one  of 
the  Four  Hundred,  threw  her  ermine  from 
her  ivory  shoulders  and  actually  howled." 

"  'T  was  a  fool  thing  to  do,"  commented 
Maginnis ;  "but  I  suppose  them  that 's  used  to 
theayter-goin'  understand  it." 

363 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"They  do,"  said  Mary  Ann,  emphatically, 
"or  Mike  Carmody  and  his  wife  would  not 
be  living  in  luxury  now.  There  's  not  much 
more  of  it,"  continued  Mary  Ann,  returning 
to  the  letter:  "Carmody,  looking  every  inch 
a  Helio-ga-boo'-lus,  calls  out : 

?T  is  my  imperial  will  that  he  be  saved — 
He,  Glaucus,  and  no  other,  whom  gods 

ordained 
To  be  my  brother. 

Glaucus,  in  his  turn,  pleads  for  the  lives  of  the 
other  senators.  Helio-ga-boo'-lus  yields  when 
he  finds  out  that  Aurelia  is  a  descendant  of 
Julius  Caesar  by  the  female  line,  saying: 

O  manes  of  Caesar,  I  refuse  thee  nothing ! 

Helio-ga-boo'-lus  clasps  Aurelia  to  his  heart, 
the  proud  senators,  hearing  that  Aurelia  is  of 
the  House  of  the  Caesars,  withdraw  their  op 
position,  and  the  curtain  goes  down,  while  only 
pink  roses — emblems  of  hope — fall.  And  love 

364 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  MAGINNIS 

is  triumphant.  The  managers  that  once 
spurned  Carmody,"  the  author  continued,  "are 
now  anxious  for  his  'Hamlet'  at  any  price ;  but 
no  immortal  bard  for  him  as  long  as  his  wife 
can  write.  Ah,  my  friend,  it  pays,  in  the  mind 
and  heart,  to  spurn  the  low  ideas  of  the  popu 
lace.  You  say  that  you  will  never  be  able  to 
come  to  New  York.  That  is  sad;  I  wish  you 
could  see  our  apartment.  We  are  at  home 
on  Sunday  night,  when  we  have  a  little 
saloon — " 

"Saloon,"  said  Maginnis,  decisively,  deceived 
by  Mary  Ann's  pronunciation,  "if  I  had  to  keep 
a  saloon,  and  was  any  kind  of  a  man,  I  'd  not 
leave  it  to  my  wife.  But  I  thought  there  was 
Sunday  closin'  in  New  York." 

"It 's  not  that  kind  of  a  saloon ;  it 's  spelled 
with  one  o,"  answered  Mary  Ann,  hastily  pass 
ing  the  word.  "Mrs.  Carmody  says,  'If  you 
ever  come  to  New  York,  though  that  seems 
impossible,  I  shall  be  happy  to  entertain  you. 

365 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

I  shall  never  forget  your  motherly  kindness 
to  a  homeless  girl/ ' 

"Girl!"  echoed  Maginnis.  "The  old  crea 
ture's  dreamin' ;  but  let  that  pass.  She  means 
well,  and  she  's  made  an  honest  working-man 
of  Carmody,  which  I  never  expected.  T 
would  be  a  great  thing  if  we  could  go,  Mary 
Ann ;  we  never  had  a  weddin'-trip  yet,  an'  I  've 
never  seen  New  York.  I  '11  be  sorry  all  my 
life  that  when  I  came  to  this  country  I  took  a 
tramp  steamer  from  Queenstown  to  Norfolk. 
'T  would  be  a  pleasure,  Mary  Ann,"  sighed 
Maginnis,  thinking  of  the  hurling  match. 

"  'T  would,  indeed,"  echoed  Mary  Ann,  re 
flecting  on  the  beauties  of  Mrs.  Carmody's  flat 
and  the  splendors  of  "Heliogabalus." 

The  unexpected  happened.  Mrs.  Magee's 
neuralgia  increased  in  violence,  and,  in  des 
peration  at  the  thought  of  the  disgrace  that 
must  come  to  her  family  if  her  nephew  were 
permitted  to  board  the  departing  steamer  with- 

366 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  MAGINNIS 

out  one  of  his  "kith  or  kin"  to  present  him  with, 
at  least,  a  box  of  cigars,  at  the  last  moment  the 
custodian  of  the  family  honor  reluctantly  con 
sented  to  pay  the  expenses  of  Maginnis,  as 
well  as  of  Mary  Ann,  to  the  city  of  desire. 
This  was,  as  Maginnis  said,  as  unexpected  as 
a  bolt  from  the  blue  of  a  smiling  heaven.  The 
biggest  trunk  was  packed,  with  the  addition 
of  appropriate  souvenirs;  Mrs.  Magee  gra 
ciously  sent  for  the  children,  so  that  their 
mother's  mind  might  be  clear;  and  Maginnis 
and  Mary  Ann  left  Bracton  in  an  ecstasy  of 
anticipation. 

"Mind,"  said  Mrs.  Magee,  "to  find  out  all 
about  the  Carmodys.  I  don't  believe  a  word 
of  all  that  woman  has  written.  'Helio-ga-boo'- 
lus/  indeed !  It 's  only  song  and  dance  he 's 
fit  for.  To  think  of  his  marrying  a  woman  as 
old  as  his  grandmother,"  she  added,  with  a 
scornful  laugh. 

The  relative  from  Kerry  was  "seen  off"  on 
367 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

Saturday  morning.  He  said  very  frankly  that 
he  was  glad  to  leave  a  country  where  you  could 
not  sit  still  a  minute;  he  scorned  some  of  the 
souvenirs, — with  apparent  reason,  as  one  of 
them  from  his  aunt  was  a  huge  conch-shell, 
spotted  like  a  tortoise-shell  cat,  and  another, 
"Lives  of  Famous  Irishmen"  in  six  volumes. 
He  did  not  hesitate  to  say  ungratefully  that 
they  were  not  easy  to  carry.  The  last  words 
of  this  unsatisfactory  relative  were  that  there 
was  n't  a  decent  cup  of  tea  in  America,  and  that 
he  would  never  leave  his  native  land  unless 
compelled  to  by  starvation.  Maginnis,  whose 
pride  was  hurt,  merely  substituted  a  box  of 
Pittsburg  stogies  for  the  Havanas  he  had  been 
commissioned  to  buy,  and  shook  hands  untear- 
fully.  Then  he  and  Mary  Ann  faced  two  days 
of  delight. 

"Keb?"  called  a  man  as  they  left  the  dock, 
and,  with  a  recklessness  that  struck  Mary  Ann 
as  fearful,  her  husband  took  a  hansom.  New 

368 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  MAGINNIS 

York  is  the  city  of  the  Celt.  Why?  is  a  ques 
tion  the  answer  to  which  might  reflect  on  the 
temperament  of  the  Celt,  and  the  nature  of  the 
attractions  of  this  fascinating  city.  Maginnis 
sniffed  the  sea  air  with  delight,  and  for  the 
midday  dinner  found  a  place  the  polished 
cherry-colored  tables  of  which  pleased  Mary 
Ann.  Maginnis  soon  put  himself  on  terms  of 
comradeship  with  the  white  waiters ;  he  was  in 
the  habit  of  disdaining  the  colored  "help"  at 
home.  He  pointed  out  celebrities  with  an  air 
that  almost  deceived  Mary  Ann,  but  as  she 
knew  that  these  celebrities  really  existed  in 
New  York,  she  was  not  keen  as  to  whether 
her  generous  husband  showed  her  the  real 
thing  or  not.  The  Brooklyn  Bridge,  the 
Cathedral,  all  the  wonders! — and  then  after  a 
short  supper  at  Sweeny's  Hotel,  the  theater, 
to  see  the  miracles  of  "Helio-ga-boo'-lus." 
But  in  the  papers  the  waiters  had  amiably 
brought  there  was  no  mention  of  this  tragedy. 

369 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

Maginnis  could  not  understand  this.  "Per 
haps  Carmody,  the  lazy  devil,  is  taking  a  night 
off.  'T  would  be  like  him/'  said  Maginnis. 

Mary  Ann  was  visibly  disappointed.  "I 
have  set  my  heart  on  it,"  she  said  dolefully. 

The  search  was  in  vain,  but  Maginnis  found 
an  announcement  under  the  head  of  "Vaude 
ville."  It  was  in  big  letters,  and  read:  "Un 
limited  success:  9:30:  Rafferty  in  the  Kerry 
Dance." 

"There  we  '11  go,  Mary  Ann,"  he  said. 

To  these  country-folk,  the  turns  on  the  pro 
gram  preceding  the  great  Rafferty  were  de 
lightful.  When  the  curtain  rose  on  "Number 
five"  and  revealed  a  delicately  lighted  green 
landscape,  with  a  stream  in  it  that  might  have 
been  painted  by  a  young  and  hopeful  Constable, 
Maginnis  whispered: 

"You  can  see  the  water-cresses  in  that  little 
run.  T  is  home." 

A  prelude  on  the  air  Maginnis  knew  so  well, 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  MAGINNIS 

and  RafTerty,  apparently  young,  very  alert,  and 
with  a  delicious  Kerry  "Top  o'  the  mornin'  to 
everybody,"  entered. 

"He  's  one  of  the  boys  at  home/'  whispered 
Maginnis,  clutching  Mary  Ann's  arm.  "How 
it  takes  me  back !  I  've  seen  him  somewhere 
before,  Mary  Ann.  It  brings  a  lump  in  my 
throat  to  hear  his  voice:  I  feel  just  as  I  did 
when  Carmody  sang  that  same  song." 

The  melody  rose  lark-like  and  full,  with  a 
softness  sweetened  by  the  brogue  which  seemed 
to  be  all  little  curves  and  grace  notes. 

"I  smell  the  primroses  and  see  the  fairy- 
ring,"  said  Maginnis,  as  the  delicious  notes 
melted  into  longing  for  past  happiness,  and 
then  rose  again  in  ecstasy  for  present  joys,  and 
moonlight  fell  over  the  scene. 

Mary  Ann's  eyes  were  moist.  "  'T  is 
beautiful,"  she  murmured.  "  'T  is  better  than 
'Helio-ga-boo'-lus'  a  thousand  times,  and  I 
should  think  Carmody  would  do  this  rather 

371 


THE  WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

than  the  great,  big  tragedy.     The  singing  is 
just  like  his,  only  better." 

Maginnis  shook  his  head ;  his  eyes  were  full 
of  tears.  The  house  was  silent;  it  was  the 
fine  touch  of  nature,  and  even  those  who  could 
not  see  the  water-cresses  and  smell  the  prim 
roses  and  knew  nothing  of  the  fairy-ring,  felt 
the  truth  and  beauty  in  the  air. 

'T  is  like  Carmody  at  his  best,  I  must  say," 
said  Maginnis,  his  eyes  glistening. 

The  sketch  was  slight,  a  monologue  in  which 
an  old  woman  was  quoted  as  to  the  past  of  her 
happy  youth,  with  a  snatch  of  song: 

Look  on  the  wren  who  pays  no  rint, 
And  is  content. 

Only  a  little  ballad  of  the  primrose-time,  and 
the  joyous  dance,  and  yet  Maginnis,  and  those 
with  memories  like  his  among  the  auditors, 
were  touched;  many  eyes  filled  with  tears. 
The  "boy"  of  the  sketch  had  the  magic  of  a 

372 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  MAGINNIS 

voice  that  made  heart-strings  vibrate.  Again 
and  again  he  was  recalled.  He  was  lithe  and 
he  appeared  young;  his  hair  was  brown  and 
curly.  Maginnis  knitted  his  brow.  "Mary 
Ann,"  he  said,  as  the  curtain  fell  after  six  re 
calls  of  the  actor,  and  "Number  six"  went  up, 
"T  is  Carmody!"  The  tears  dried  up  in  his 
eyes.  "And  he  's  ashamed  of  this!" 

"  'T  is  not  legitimate/'  answered  Mary  Ann, 
amazed  at  the  discovery. 

"But  it 's  nature,  it 's  real,  it  's  not  make- 
believe!"  exclaimed  Maginnis.  "And  from 
this  he  's  drawin'  his  money,  and  he  ashamed 
of  it.  Carmody  and  his  'Helio-ga-boo'-lus,'  ' 
he  added  with  contempt.  "I  '11  give  him  a 
a  piece  of  my  mind!  Heaven  and  earth,"  he 
added,  with  conviction,  "how  I  hate  a  liar !" 

"I  'm  thankful  that  we  Ve  found  it  out  with 
out  their  knowing  it,"  said  Mary  Ann.  "  'T 
is  the  kindest  thing  to  say  nothing  when  we 
see  them." 

373 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"Helio-ga-boo'-lus !"  muttered  Maginnis, 
"And  he  ashamed  of  this!" 

Maginnis  was  moody  during  the  rest  of  the 
entertainment.  "His  art,"  he  muttered,  "and 
he  makin'  his  wife  lie  about  it  all  the  time! 
I  '11  teach  him !  oh,  I  '11  teach  him !"  he  vowed, 
and  nothing  that  Mary  Ann  could  say  softened 
his  fierce  resolve. 

On  Sunday  night,  after  some  happy  hours 
slightly  embittered  in  the  mind  of  Maginnis  by 
the  memory  of  Carmody's  perfidy,  the  "Lons- 
dale  Arms"  was  found.  There  was  a  little 
boy  in  a  blue  suit  with  innumerable  brass-but 
tons  in  the  arched  doorway,  twro  top-heavy 
plants  in  green  buckets,  and  other  evidences  of 
splendor. 

Maginnis  had  not  thought  it  necessary  to 
announce  his  arrival  in  town,  so  when  the  pair 
had  made  their  rather  tremulous  journey  up 
ward  some  distance  in  the  elevator,  they  found 

374 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  MAGINNIS 

Carmody  unexpectant  in  his  own  drawing- 
room.  He  was  thinner,  his  hair  was  grayer, 
but  he  was  happier-looking.  He  reclined  on 
a  turkey-red  sofa,  almost  buried  in  Sunday 
papers.  He  welcomed  the  visitors  somewhat 
perfunctorily,  but  when  Mrs.  Carmody,  more 
blondined  than  ever,  appeared  in  a  mauve  and 
purple  teagown,  enthusiasm  filled  the  room. 
She  was  unmistakably  fairer,  fatter,  and  for- 
tier ;  but  the  stamp  of  success  was  upon  her. 

"I  'm  the  happiest  girl  on  earth,"  she  said, 
"but  Carmody  does  n't  love  me,"  she  added  co- 
quettishly;  "he  lives  only  for  his  art." 

Carmody  protested,  with  an  air  of  having 
learned  his  lines.  Maginnis  warmed  under 
the  welcome,  accompanied  later  by  high  tea 
in  a  tiny  dining-room,  furnished  "in  Mission," 
as  Mrs.  Carmody  described  it.  The  drawing- 
room  was  mostly  occupied  by  a  Turkish  "cozy- 
corner,"  over  which  a  statue  of  "The  Bather" 

375 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

bent  between  two  crossed  scimitars  and  a  large 
colored  engraving  of  "Alone  at  last,"  on  which 
Mrs.  Carmody  said  she  "doted." 

"Are  you  staying  over  to-morrow  night?" 
she  asked  with  a  slight  trace  of  fear  in  her 
voice. 

"No,"  said  Maginnis,  promptly. 

"What  a  pity,  Carmody,"  said  Mrs.  Car 
mody,  who  was  evidently  relieved.  Then  her 
regret  became  gushing  and  girlish.  She  wras 
desolate.  "You  can't  see  Carmody  in  my  play. 
He  's  great  in  'Helio-ga-boo'-lus/  as  I  told  you. 
It  took  me  nearly  a  year  to  write  it,  and  every 
manager  in  New  York  rejected  it — nearly 
every  manager,"  she  corrected,  with  a  slight 
flush.  "But  now — oh,  now !" 

"He  's  great,"  said  Mary  Ann,  who  was  ab 
sorbed  in  the  Morocco  brass  tray  that  glittered 
under  a  Japanese  lantern  in  the  "corner";  she 
spoke  unconsciously,  as  one  in  a  trance.  "I 
never  recognized  Carmody  until  the  people 

376 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  MAGINNIS 

called  him  out  for  the  sixth  time.  Yester 
day—" 

She  paused,  flushing  and  realizing  the  mis 
take  into  which  her  absorption  in  all  the  splen 
dor  had  led  her.  A  strained  look  came  into 
Mrs.  Carmody's  face;  Carmody  gazed  at  Ma- 
ginnis,  appalled. 

"  T  was  great,"  said  Maginnis,  rapidly, 
"when  Helio-ga-boo'-lus  stomped  on  the  stage, 
and  them  roses  as  big  as  cabbages  began  to 
fall  down,  it  was  as  exciting  as  a  prize-fight. 
You  '11  never  do  anything  finer,  Carmody." 

Mrs.  Carmody  recovered  herself  almost  in 
stantly. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Maginnis,  what  that  play  cost  me !" 
Carmody  seemed  unnerved,  but  Mrs.  Carmody 
took  the  cue  instantly,  and  Maginnis  was  on 
the  alert. 

"Ah,  ma'am,"  he  said,  more  rapidly,  "Car 
mody  seemed  six  and  a  half  feet  high  when  he 
called  out  in  centurion  tones,  'Them  roses  must 

377 


THE  WILES   OF  SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

cease  to  fall/  or  something  to  that  effect.  'T 
was  grand.  If  Hello- ga-boo'-lus  had  beent 
born  in  our  time,  they  'd  have  had  him  in  a 
movin'  picture.  I  never  expect  to  see  the  like 
again." 

Mary  Ann,  bewildered,  looked  in  open-eyed 
astonishment  at  the  singularly  gifted  speakers. 

"I  never  expect  to  see  the  like  again,"  Ma- 
ginnis  repeated. 

"You  never  will,  Mr.  Maginnis,"  answered 
Mrs.  Carmody,  calmly;  "but  you  simply  can 
not  forget  it.  If  I  had  a  husband  who  did  not 
love  his  art,  who  would  sacrifice  it  for  even 
two  hundred  dollars  a  week,  what  would  my 
life  be?  Life  without  ideals  of  art  is  a  desert." 

"True  enough,"  said  Maginnis,  with  de 
cision,  as  the  punch  was  brought  on :  "true  for 
you!" 

"When  you  come  again,"  said  Mrs.  Car 
mody,  generously,  "you  must  let  me  give  you 

378 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  MAGINNIS 

a  stage-box.     I  think  that  later  I  will  portray 
the  slave-girl  myself." 

Maginnis  began  a  sound  that  seemed  like  a 
groan,  but  he  stifled  it,  and  asked  for  more 
lemon.  After  this  the  conversation  between 
the  two  women  drifted  to  Mrs.  Carmody's 
social  position  and  the  New  York  price  of  hats. 
Maginnis  and  Carmody  drank  in  silence. 
"Each  of  us,"  reflected  Maginnis,  "has  his  own 
thoughts!" 

Just  before  midnight  Mrs.  Carmody  threw 
her  arms  around  Mary  Ann's  neck  and  bade 
her  an  affectionate  good-by.  Carmody  and 
Maginnis  shook  hands  gravely. 

"Oh,  Maginnis,"  began  Mary  Ann,  as  they 
descended,  "how  could  you?" 

"I  don't  know  how  I  could  or  how  I  could 
n't,"  he  answered  shortly;  "  't  was  what  Mrs. 
Carmody  calls  'temperament'  that  carried  me 
away." 

379 


THE   WILES   OF   SEXTON   MAGINNIS 

"  'T  was  my  mistake/'  said  Mary  Ann, 
humbly;  "but  I  wondered  at  you." 

"It 's  hard,"  answered  Maginnis,  as  they  en 
tered  a  car,  "to  show  a  man  you  think  he  's  a 
liar  when  you  're  eatin'  his  meat.  I  would  n't 
like  it  myself.  Helio-ga-boo'-lus !"  he  repeated 
with  a  hollow  laugh.  "Mary  Ann,"  he  added 
solemnly,  "I  've  taken  liberties  with  the  truth 
myself,  I  admit  that;  but  a  real  liar  like  Car- 
mody  is  too  much  for  me.  And  to  think  of 
him  being  ashamed  of  doing  a  good  Kerry  song 
and  dance!  I  swear,  Mary  Ann,  that  when  I 
get  home  to  Bracton  I  '11  take  a  pledge  before 
his  reverence  to  stick  to  the  truth  as  far  as  I 
can.  And  I  'm  glad  Carmody  is  no  kin  to 
me ;  I  'm  done  with  liars,  and  he  and  his  'Helio- 
ga-boo'-lus.'  " 

And  Maginnis  became  red  in  the  face  from 
violent  and  suppressed  indignation.  "If  a  man 
was  ever  converted  by  a  terrible  example,  I  'm 
that  man,  Mary  Ann,"  he  added,  as  the  couple 
reached  Sweeny's  Hotel. 

380 


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LD  21-100m-7,'33 


789418 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


